I'm back
by FreedomOfThinking
Summary: "I could make a life for myself, carve my own path and live happily... but that snake faced bastard is still out there somewhere, and I won't rest until he's dead. And if I fail? Well, what's another body among foundations?" (Inspired by Kathryn518's I'm still here) (Time Travel, Family Magic, AU)
1. Chapter 1

So I've had this story idea in my head for a long time now. This was inspired by "I'm still here" by kathryn518. An amazing piece of work that I suggest you look through first.

I'm currently sitting in the middle of a cafe drinking a beer and posting this. I hope you enjoy.

This story has started because I felt sad that I'm still here has not updated in a while. So I decided to run my own. If you are aware of that master piece, you should know how most of this story is going to go.

best of days,

Freedom.

* * *

Nicholas Flamel stepped back in intrigue as a hurricane began to form around the singularity. A smile spread across his face as he stood calmly in the center of the magical maelstrom.

* * *

Now hold on a second.

To be fair, that _is_ a strange bit of information to take in.

So let's drag the clock back 24 hours, so that we all know exactly _what_ is happening.

 _It_ had appeared behind his small cottage that he shared with his wife Pernelle a day ago.

No loud noises.

No dramatic explosions of magic.

Not even a shifting of the earth or sky.

 _It_ had just appeared without rhyme or reason.

And to be fair, it was impossible for some deranged witch or wizard to have cast or created, _it_.

Since the warding scheme which protected the home of the Flamel's stretched for miles, it was impossible for any unsavory individuals to so much as sneeze near the ward lines without the immortal Alchemist knowing.

But it was a magical little ball of bright white light that had appeared nonetheless.

The Flamel's had judged and measured its distance from the house at 50 meters, and after an hour of constant vigilance the strange orb had not shown any intent of moving. To be fair, it hadn't shown any intent of any kind.

It had radiated nothing but calm.

How odd.

Waves of magic had washed over Nicholas Flamel as he had approached it, but the age old alchemist felt no malicious intent.

No, this magic had no will whatsoever.

Unshackled and pure, it simply had decided to abruptly exist. Supposedly there was no purpose behind it.

However, Nicholas knew that magic, even magic in its purest of forms, unbound and untame, always had a purpose.

It may be convoluted, possessed tact and subtlety, but in the end existence always had a mission, and magic was the guide.

Nick had quarantined the anomaly once he begun to observe it closely. Just in case this was the coming of the apocalypse, or the begin of the end of days. While he could send letters to his colleagues around the world and probably open up a line of inquiry as to what exactly the singularity was, he felt more than prepared to uncover the secrets of this discovery. It had practically been dumped at his front door anyway, of course this was up to him to investigate.

Funnily enough, he had not been the one to first spot it.

Pernelle, his dearly beloved wife, was the one who had found it there, floating.

She had been in the small garden beside their home that served as one of her favourite pastimes when the anomaly had popped into existence. The pop was audible, as it was that which drew her attention.

Needless to say, she had called out to her husband, asking him to come and investigate.

"Nick?! Something has appeared!"

A muffled response had followed, and by the sound of heavy weight impacting the floor, her husband had tripped in his attempt to stand from behind his desk. She always blamed the combination of his own eagerness and the slanted floor of the basement for the constant bruises on his side.

"Appear you say? I'll be right up!" the joy in his voice was unmistakable. Nicholas Flamel was a scientist at heart, and while he was not limited to the tools and sensibilities of Muggles, he enjoyed the same sense of intrigue and query.

Nicholas had quickly exited the laboratory he called a basement, coming out of the small and unassuming home with a wand in hand. His senses were still as sharp as ever, and Pernelle's slightly worried tone had alerted him to a potential danger on top of a possible discovery. He was still surprised and excited to see the small glowing orb a bit of a distance away from their home.

"By Merlin!"

"What is it?" Pernelle asked, hoping he knew. Most of the time, her dear Nick had an answer to everything. Having spent most of his long life questioning the world, a fair bit of his time spent was receiving answers.

He lacked one for this strange anomaly.

Nicholas smiled brightly, "I haven't the slightest... Isn't that fantastic!"

"It could be very dangerous Nick!" his wife was only worried about him, especially when the gleam of intrigue melted into his vision.

"Mmm" he hummed, "it very well could be"

Pernelle sighed as he made his way forward. She followed behind him, her wand in her hand now and both had approached the globe while casting a series of diagnostic and sensory spells.

Nothing happened, and nothing was received.

The little bright globe remained, it's constant shine never faltering. Nor did its pulses of magic. Like waves of heat, they had washed over the Flamels.

In a few hours, Nicholas had brought out a desk, some magical equipment he had collected over the years, his favourite pair of blue glasses, and enough parchment to record every little test he would conduct.

The oldest man in the world begun to tinker with the orb. Spells of varying degrees of power were cast and directed towards the orb. Most passed through it, some simply disappeared before touching it.

Nicholas had noted down that the more powerful the spell, at a certain threshold, the orb would absorb it.

It proved to do almost nothing however. While the light flickered slightly, it did no more than that. The intensity of magic that was produced remained the same, and Nicholas could confidently make contact with the strange occurrence.

On the next day however, after scratching down a few notes on his papers detailing 'The Singularity', Flamel finally considered something new.

It was a magical entity, and while it did not display anything notable of a conscious, it could perhaps be intelligent.

Pernelle watched on from the window of the house, having glanced up from preparing a small soup for the both of them when Nicholas moved towards the Singularity.

Pushing aside the Astral Telescope which had been wheeled out in an attempt to gaze into the small globe, a few ward scanners and a beast manipulator, Flamel came as physically close to it as he dared.

"What are you?"

Like an eye, he felt a focus shift towards him. There was no pupil to speak of, but the light grew in intensity.

He felt as if he was being stared at by Merlin himself.

" _ **Are you Nicholas Flamel?**_ "

A whispering shout, coming from a thousand voices yet none at the same time. The deafening question shaking the inventor of the philosopher's stone at his very core.

Magic itself was speaking to him.

And let it be known that Flamel did not back down, where others would have trembled, he stared into the Singularity and responded with confidence. After all, having lived for over half a millennium, one does not make incredible magical advancements without taking a few risks.

"I am"

Then the hurricane had started.

For a brief instant the orb flickered out of existence, turning into a fine white mist, not unlike the beginning stages of a corporeal patronus. It dissipated into nothing, leaving only the gale force winds and a storm of pure magic.

The heat of it was incredible.

Nicholas quickly pulled out one of his journals and began to write with the tip of his wand.

"Responded...verbally...fascinating..." he mumbled as his brown robes were billowing in the waves of air.

Wind came howling through the planes of the Flamel estate, lose clumps of dirt and grass flying everywhere.

The small forest to the back of the house shook as the earth trembled.

As if the sky itself couldn't handle it, lighting struck the earth. Not just once, but multiple times, all of the electricity concentrating on where the orb had been.

"Stay away Pernelle!" Nicholas shouted back to the house, looking over his shoulder to stare at Pernelle "I've got this completely under control!"

He laughed at the expression on her face as the winds picked up further, threatening to pull him into the cyclone that was forming.

And then it died.

Everything receded into nothing. The wind ceased howling. The tree's quit shaking. The earth stopped rumbling.

It was somewhat disappointing and Flamel frowned. Even if all his things and his favourite desk had been scattered everywhere, he was annoyed that nothing had happened.

Pernelle was calling to him, asking him to come in a try some soup before it got cold. He turned to reply and she screamed once, "behind you Nick!"

Quick as the very lightning which had struck the ground moments before, Flamel turned, Mahogany wand ready and willing.

Almost as if it was crudely drawn by a child, a figure stood before him. Stick thin white lines composed its form, a circle being its head.

A stick figure, of the same glowing white mist which the orb had become.

"...incredible..." Nicholas whispered, dropping his note book and moving closer to the figure, ignoring Pernelle's angry comment about retreat being a safer option.

Reaching forward slowly, the magical… 'thing' copied his gesture, a small misty white limb which represented an arm moving towards him.

Nicholas and the creature touched, his finger making contact with the misty being for a brief moment.

The following wave of magic blew him backwards, and the Alchemist was flung all the way into the side of his home, colliding with the door in a loud bang.

"NICK!"

Pernelle was by his side in a moment, clutching him and checking for injuries.

"I'm alright! I promise, I'm fine… I… what?"

Matter and material was being drawn from the ground around the mist, pulling clumps of dirt and earth towards the figure.

While attraction of objects and materials was admittedly strange, especially so considering the strange magical anomaly that had appeared out of nowhere was the cause, the mist was...

"It's converting it… into... Bone?"

Indeed it was.

Earth was being systematically morphed into marrow and bone. A skeleton was forming around the white mist, being created by the earth and land itself. The figure being put together by magic was humanoid, with a very human skeleton.

Once the skull at formed, the being collapsed forward onto its hands and knees. Shivers seemed to run up the back of it, and both the Flamels were treated to the horrid sight of a nervous system forming slowly.

The humanoid that was forming rolled onto its back, shaking and shivering in tn the throes of its creation.

Muscle followed, as did Organs. Earth would be drawn from the ground and clump against parts of the being's body, eventually falling away to reveal a new organ. Lungs. Liver. A heart. Everything.

Skin blossomed over its features, drawing across its form from different locations, like ripples of water.

"It's male" Nicholas observed, finally standing from his slump on the floor.

Pernelle coughed into her hand.

In a flash of magic, the being was covered in dirt, buried in an instant.

Never one to be fearful of such strange things, Nicholas ventured forward expressionless, his wand in hand and eyes focused on the small dirt coffin that had formed.

In a few strides he was beside it, staring down at the partially buried boy. The earth and dirt covered the lad's intimate area, but the Flamel was able to see his face.

Partial aristocratic features, incredibly dark hair, yet a soft expression.

Eyelids shot open, and Nicholas stared into deep pools of green for only a moment.

"Nick?" the boy asked, looking up at him knowingly.

And that was all he got out before the Alchemist stunned him.

* * *

 **London**

* * *

Harry James Potter had been known for many things.

Within the first two decades of his life, not only had he slain a Dark Lord a year after his birth, murdered a fully grown Basilisk at 12, participated in a vicious tournament of deadly trials, but he had uncovered the return of the very same Dark Lord that he had murdered as a child.

As an exemplar, the standing example of those that stood against Lord Voldemort, Harry was the embodiment of good.

But he failed to maintain that image in his later years. Desperate times led to desperate measures and some things had to be sacrificed.

Because when the war had returned, and magic and spells were flung between shops at Diagon Alley, the halls of Hogwarts or even the Ministry of Magic, being 'good' and winning was no longer synonymous.

The death of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore at the hands of Severus Snape led to a far darker world than most would have expected. Especially so, since the great Albus had orchestrated the events of his death, his carefully laid plans prepared to prop Harry for victory, and ensure the death of Voldemort.

But even the best-laid plans often go awry.

The last heir of Slytherin, Tom Marvolo Riddle, discovered the plans that had been set in motion to defeat him. His anchors to life, his Horcruxes, were scattered to the globe after their original locations were revealed. It would take years to find them again.

And the time that was spent in search, Voldemort did not keep himself idle.

He did not wait.

The first of december, 1998 was a date for all to remember.

Many perished in the opening stages of the Dark Lord's plan, and violence followed in the wake of his servants.

Voldemort waged a war upon not just Britain, but the world itself, and Harry Potter had been forced to adapt.

Wizards and Muggles were being cut down in the streets, bloodshed for the sake of bloodshed. The world was not pretty and perfect anymore, magic was no longer beautiful and whimsical… everything had gone dark.

Dumbledore was rolling in his grave.

With a sigh, the Boy-Who-Lived closed his eyes for a brief moment, preparing himself for the coming meeting. He had no reason to be scared or fearful, but he nonetheless felt a sense of anticipation.

Harry was resting in the trench, back against the mud wall and his wand twirling in hand. London was a disaster. The inner city had been claimed by the forces of the dark lord, Werewolves and Vampires alike roamed the streets and skies. Muggle artillery boomed in the distance, and red blots of buildings were consumed in flames. The sounds of Muggle and Wizard troops hustled in the background. When two different worlds had collided, Harry had thought that would be the end of it all, that a three way war would emerge. But the Muggles found themselves split down the middle. Many joined with Lord Voldemort, and many had joined with Harry. Others drew in upon themselves, and entire countries would vanish into lock down and martial law. Australia was a charred remain of a wasteland. No one had heard from Belgium in months. America was experiencing a civil war of titanic proportions.

And so was the home turf.

England was divided.

It had been a few weeks since Harry was in France, and Paris had vanished in flames a year ago. Time seemed pointless to record, but Harry had kept track of some of the important events. Even the turn of the century did nothing to phase him.

The year 2000 had passed without any notice, with everyone too busy trying to fight and remain alive. Time had been forgotten, but the war continued for years.

'You did this' Harry thought, 'you destroyed our world… and for what?'

A dark chuckle came through his mind, but nothing more. They hardly spoke to one another. Only feelings and strong emotions would filter through the layers of protection that both had formed for the other.

Water begun to fall from the sky and people drifted by him in the trenches, barking orders or carrying equipment.

He had passed seas of faces. Remembering them, and the names attached to them only brought grief. It was pointless to.

Still, Harry remembered a few. Those that were the most important to him always had a place in his heart.

Ronald Weasley, one of his most trusted friends and a man who he had considered a brother, had been slain by the Killing Curse at the battle of Moscow.

Russia had fallen only days later, the Inferni horde swallowing the country without remorse. Harry had barely managed to get the body back.

Ron had gotten his funeral, unlike thousands of others.

Hermione had been killed in an airstrike.

German military forces loyal to the Dark Lord.

An insider within Voldemort's forces had given away the location of a Horcrux, one of the last that remained. Harry had destroyed it, slashed it to pieces with his Basilisk Dagger.

But espionage works both ways. Someone had been told that the 'Golden Duo' were there, and everything had happened too fast for Harry to save anyone.

They had only seconds to respond to the roar of jet engines.

Dark shapes had passed over head, and Harry had realised far too late that Voldemort would value the death of Harry more than even potentially harming his own Horcrux.

They had carpet bombed most of the forest.

Harry could remember the look of surprise on her face, a second before the firestorm had claimed her and the rest of his team.

Large burns, like lashes from a whip raked the side of his body. After all, a shield charm could only do so much.

Who else?

Potter struggled not to remember, but unbidden, faces and memories flashed before his tightly shut eyes.

Fred. George. Sirius. Remus. Tonks. Kingsley. Ginny. There were thousands more.

'No more' his train of thought halted, 'I chose not to follow this'

Harry ignored his inner turmoil, instead focusing on the world as the rain filtered around him. Clumps of mud fell from the walls of the trench.

The world was bleak. It grew darker every day and he was not proud to say that he had changed with it too.

His squeaky clean persona, the Boy-Who-Lived, had been stripped away to reveal something much more feral.

Something far more insidious.

War could make monsters out of people… but a war of this scale...

"Potter"

A false leg clumped towards him.

"Moody"

One of the few people that had survived the Ministry Raid in 99', Alastor Moody had become a loyal friend of Harry's in the time they served together. They had bonded over similar beliefs, a driving hatred of their common enemy, and a good few war stories.

Potter had accumulated quite a few by this time.

Both had a bone to pick with the Dark Lord, and the deaths of dear friends to avenge. Tonks was like a daughter to the grizzled Auror, and Bellatrix Lestrange had felt his wrath. Lupin had died at the battle of Hogwarts, and Nymphadora had been looking for a way out. She _wanted_ someone to punch her ticket.

Bellatrix had hit her with the Killing Curse.

Short and sweet. No warning, and no chance to dodge or evade.

It was a mercy, seeing the woman perish as peacefully as she could. Even if she had left her son orphaned in a cold and desolate world, Tonks went down with a resigned smile on her face.

Moody hadn't seen it that way. He was out for blood, and blood was what he got. His purple spell had cracked across the battlefield, drawing the eyes of quite a few people. The Dark Witch had conjured a shield, and her taunting smile of insanity drawn across her face in glee.

Except the shield didn't stop the spell.

Bellatrix's face twisted into confusion as the curse slammed into her midsection.

Harry remembered seeing her disappear in a mist of blood and bone. The crazed glint in Moody's human eye really did make the Dark Wizard hunter seem 'mad'.

The spell was one of Moody's personal creations.

The Avenger.

A special something that he had concocted specifically for the use upon Dark Wizards. The catch policy was no longer in effect, and had not been for a long time.

Every wizard and witch these days knew how to cast an Unforgivable. Spell work had only grown darker as the word descended into the abyss. The Killing Curse was more common than a shielding charm.

Harry had endeavoured to learn everything perfectly at this point in time. He couldn't afford many more mistakes or slow reactions. Harry needed to be perfect in battle, and there weren't many ways to do so with only a repertoire of Light spells.

Potter had adapted and learnt all that he could, until he reached the pinnacle of power. An unhealthy mix of dark and light magic.

His own arsenal was matched by no wizard, bar one.

"Some scouts returned today. Our man on the inside had some news"

Harry lifted an eyebrow at Moody, who stood a few feet away from him, his magical eye swirling in his head. His other eye was focused on Harry.

"And?"

"He's here"

Harry pushed himself off of the wall, coming forward to stand directly in front of Moody.

Voldemort had vanished into South America many years ago. Any team that was sent in to even locate the man never returned. Many had theorised or wondered what the Dark Lord was doing in the Amazon, but in the end it all came down to speculation.

"Where?"

"Department of mysteries, the Ministry"

* * *

 **Flamel Property, England**

* * *

Harry snapped up, leaping to the side in a panicked frenzy.

His sudden movement from the small cott he had been laying in gave him a brief second of clarity.

He ducked the red spell that flew at him, his green eyes wild and wary.

A beautiful woman with soft motherly features stood before him, wand directly pointed at him.

Words were coming out of her mouth but Harry didn't give them time to reach his brain. Reflex and adrenaline kicked in, sending his body into overdrive.

The room he was locked in wasn't overly large, a couch and a pair of armchairs had surrounded the small bed, but this was ignored for the escape plan his brain was instantly drawing.

A man stepped into the room, coming from a doorway that lay in the path of what Harry assumed was a potential exit.

Light filtered into the room from a window to his side.

Early morning.

The man was speaking too, but the blood pounded in his ears.

'Gotta get out…. Gotta get to Moody'

With a wave of his hand, Harry flung himself through the window, sending shards of glass and the wooden supports hurtling in many directions.

He rolled once or twice, coming to a stop and quickly scrambling up onto his feet.

'Not this time Tom… not this time you bastard'

Without glancing at the house behind him, he stumbled off in the direction of the trees.

'Exit. Exit. Look for the exit..'

He could feel the wards that prevented apparition.

A familiar smell forced itself into his fevered mind, stopping the channel of magic to his left head.

Oak.

Spices.

Copper and steel.

Harry glanced down to see blood dripping from the tips of his fingers, landing into the soft patches of grass and dirt beneath him.

A small garden lay to his left, and the earth before him looked torn and ragged.

"I said, stop!"

Bleeding, ragged, and with a crazed look in his eye, Harry spun to face his pursuer.

Long locks of white hair dominated a firm and aristocratic face. High cheekbones and a determined frown.

Harry knew that frown.

After all, a wide variety of his experiments during the war had earned him that very same frown for a multitude of reasons.

Ethics and morality were firm and strong principles that guided the work of Nicholas Flamel. But in recent years, he had wavered in his need to save Harry's soul. Victory would not come without sacrifice.

Not to mention that Nicholas had been on the receiving end of Voldemort's ire. The dark wizard had dealt the damage personally, and Flamel had never been the same.

But to see him standing before Harry, his green eyes taking in every aspect of the ancient Alchemist.

"...Nick?" Harry took a step forward to the man, "is it really you? Did… did we do it?"

The man didn't say a word.

Harry took another step then collapsed to the ground on his knees, a small pool of blood forming beneath him.

A pair of hands grabbed his shoulders, gently resting him backwards.

Perhaps the truth was best served in this situation?

Flamel decided so, and spoke carefully to the crazed boy.

"I can say without a doubt, that I have no idea who you are" a wand waved over his body, closing up the large gashes and cuts which covered him, "you appeared on my property a day ago… in a small ball of light"

Harry's vision blurred slightly, but he did not faint. The blood loss had been stemmed, and Nick was healing him.

"Is he alright?" a soft voice called out.

"He's fine my dear" Nick called back, "he just cut himself on the glass, after his most daring 'escape'"

The other speaker, the lady from earlier stepped into Harry's view, and his jaw went slack. A soft face filled with concern, one that had patched him up hundreds of times before.

"Pernelle? But you're…!" Harry blinked slowly, the information to much to handle.

"What… what year is it?"

"1994" Nicholas told the delirious fellow after a moment of hesitation.

Harry's brain grasped at straws, his attempts at reasoning shot to hell. A sheen of panic began to cover his thoughts, and in a moment he was beginning to breathe erratically.

"Captain Harry James Potter, 5th Squad, Designation: Scarhead"

Pernelle blinked.

"What?"

"Captain Harry James Potter, 5th Squad, Designation: Scarhead"

But the boy only repeated the sentence.

It took Flamel one second to see the panic begin to set in, before he intoned a soft spell at the boy he held.

Green eyes closed, and the boy drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Pernelle cleaned up the damage that had been done to their house as Nicholas floated the boy back to the cott.

They would speak with him as soon as he woke again.

* * *

 **London**

* * *

"Well what do we have here?"

Moody snorted at Harry's question, forcing the two wizards before him on their knees in front of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Both wore the black battle robes of Voldemort's followers. Their masks lay on the floor before them and their hands were restrained behind their backs. Terrified faces looked up at the sick smile of Harry Potter. One was open with his feelings… the other tried to school his face, but Harry knew better. He knew that face.

In the ruin of the city, Harry and his team had advanced to a safe point. Command told them that the front of the ministry was being monitored, and squads of Death Eaters were patrolling in 15 minute intervals.

These two and their squad had just relieved the post that Harry's assault team was watching.

In the husk of a bombed out building they had established a small base, preparing for the inevitable assault to reclaim the ministry.

"Theodore Nott?" Harry crouched down to look at the brown haired pureblood, "is that you?"

"Fuck you, scar-head"

A strong fist smashed into the side of Nott's face, sending him to the floor with a broken nose. The other Death Eater whimpered, but stayed silent.

"Get him up, Neville"

The physically powerful form of Neville Longbottom crouched down to lift their former schoolmate off the cobble floor, bringing him back to his knees once more.

"Now. We haven't got a whole lot of time Nott… so why don't you tell me exactly how many of your brothers in arms are guarding the outside of the ministry?" Harry stowed his wand, opening his left hand and revealing a small icon engraved in it.

The image of a book made up of scars.

"Before I have to get nasty"

Nott could only stare at the small symbol and the boy, Nott's underling… he started blabbering.

"Theo… Theo this isn't worth it… just… just-"

Nott was obviously in charge of the patrolling squad of Death Eaters, and he been informed of all the details regarding the defense. That made him the target. He possessed all the information.

After awhile, he wouldn't just be talking.

Harry would get him to start singing.

"Shut up Miles!" the Slytherin swung his body, colliding against his comrade and stifling the flow of words, "Do you really think we're going to live through this? If they don't do us in, _he_ will"

"I could have your best intentions at heart Nott, how could you know?" Harry countered, still facing Nott directly face to face.

"Liar" Nott spatt in Harry's face, and Neville cracked him across the jaw this time. Nott reeled, but pulled himself up to face Harry. He wouldn't cower, even with blood dripping from a split lip.

A few years ago Harry would have respected a will such as Theodore Nott's. Now, it was just annoying. It took longer than it should.

"Unfortunately" the last Potter wiped the blood and saliva from his face, "we don't have time to waste"

A red book, almost like a journal, appeared in his left hand.

Nott stiffened, and Miles trembled.

"Let's get started"

Harry flipped to page 35 and the air shimmered.

The book snapped shut and vanished in Harry's palm.

"Much appreciated Nott. Really" green eyes gazed into dull blue, a small smile crossing Harry's face as the eyes closed.

Theo was covered in slashes and burns.

His once handsome face had been torn up by Harry's little creation. It had only taken Potter five minutes to take the man apart.

While he had never truly learnt the ability to invade minds, Harry had found a plethora of alternate ways to get someone to talk. To get under their skin.

Harry always made them sing, and Theo was nothing special.

Adding some of Nott's skills to the book was an added bonus.

The leader of the assault team stood, a calm expression on his face.

"Shut them up Neville"

The other Death Eater, Miles, struggled briefly. He had watched in silent horror as Harry had pulled out every stop to get Nott to speak.

His last words were muffled by a firm hand, and a knife gliding across his throat.

"See you in hell, Potter"

Harry barely caught the whispered words as Theo was brought up again, the same knife that had killed his friend being brought to his neck.

Any use of magic would alert the other Death Eaters to their presence. This wasn't the first time Harry and his team had dealt with guards before in such a manner, and the practise showed off.

"I'll hold you to it" Harry smiled as Nott's throat was slit, the sound of gagging coming from Miles who had collapsed forward.

The boy had turned pale as he desperately gasped on the floor, blood pooling around him in a macabre display.

Nott didn't seem to notice as he bled.

The man just kept his eyes closed, accepting death.

Two bodies were left twitching on the floor as Harry and his team advanced towards the Ministry. They slipped back into the alleys that were filled with rubble from the bombed out husks of buildings.

London was a shell of its former self.

Especially the wizarding centers.

They had taken the brunt of all the fighting.

"This is Potter" Harry brought a radio up to his mouth, "we're going in"

* * *

 **Flamel Property, England**

* * *

"The veil of death?"

Harry nodded at Flamel but his eyes were closed, trying to organise his thoughts.

"He had found some kind of ritual, we're not exactly sure what, but it turned the Veil into a gateway…" Harry opened his eyes, focusing on the Alchemist before frowning, "I don't remember what happened exactly… but I do know that I was the first through the gate… kind of an accident really"

This, "Harry Potter" had been weaving the details of his own story, trying his best to explain what had happened before appearing on the Flamel's property.

He had been at war.

A wizarding and muggle war. Brutal and vicious, this war had claimed the globe, and the fire of it had spread to every corner.

Nicholas shook his head, banishing any needless thoughts about what such a war had caused, instead wishing to focus on the individual before him.

He turned his attention towards the boy before him. Well, a man really. He might be a boy in body, but this being had experienced war.

The haunted look in his eyes reminded Flamel of the witches and wizards that had fought against Grindelwald.

The eyes gave it away for everyone, as the windows to the soul they couldn't help but be expressive. And these green eyes that glanced off into nothing…

This 'Harry Potter' had seen everything.

"When you arrived here… there was an anomaly… a strange kind of white sphere" Nicholas gained Harry's attention, drawing the poisonous green pupils towards him, "it asked for my name. Do you know why?"

Harry was silent. His mouth twitched slightly, but no words came out. They were not allowed out.

The familiarity that Potter had expressed to him showed that this boy must have been well acquainted with him in the future, and that in turn told him a lot.

Not only was the boy a powerful wizard and an intellectual, but also adventurous and brave, qualities that Nick was unashamed to admit all his friend's shared.

But the look in his eyes right now, the fear and hesitance…

"You were there" the boy finally allowed, "you helped me through the gate… you…" he took a deep breath, slightly curling in on himself in the armchair.

"You told me to find you… that was all I could think off"

Pernelle joined the conversation after a few moments of silence, "The singularity was looking for confirmation Nick, meaning that whatever ritual or spell was used, it had to have been officiated by you"

Harry's haunted gaze drifted to Pernelle.

Nicholas stared at the boy, then looked towards his wife.

"What? Have I got something on my face?"

The men said nothing, and Harry continued to stare.

"She died. Didn't she?" Nicholas finally asked, already sure of the answer.

Pernelle went pale as Harry nodded.

"He… Voldemort wanted to hurt us Nick… you and me were a very tough team. On and off the battlefield, there wasn't much that could stop us" Harry hiccuped and forced himself to look away.

Nicholas, out of reflex placed a comforting hand on the boy's arm, trying to steady him.

"But I didn't have anything left for me, aside from victory… you still had-"

"Me" Pernelle spoke softly, her gaze turned to the fireplace.

Harry nodded, a lump in his throat, "after that… " he stopped, unable to speak any further.

"Did I fight?"

Both of them looked to Pernelle, a firm glint in her eyes, "well?"

Harry's chuckle caught them both off guard, but Pernelle still retained the burn in her gaze.

"Fight? You did more than just _fight_. Six of his lieutenants, thirteen werewolves and even a piece of _his_ left ear" Harry grinned at her, "you went down with style, Mu-" he cut himself off, receding into his head again.

Expression vanished from his features, and his hands tightened into fists on his lap.

Pernelle felt herself stiffen.

Nicholas schooled his features.

"I'm sorry" Harry spoke softly, eyes gazing at his feet, "I know that you're not… _my_ Flamels, but you-" he choked on words and returned to silence.

"We know" Pernelle said softly, smiling lightly at him, "it's alright"

"So" Nicholas intervened, "what's the plan then?"

Harry's eyes darted to him now.

"Nothing's changed. Locate and destroy Voldemort"

"Might have some trouble with that" Nick said softly, taking a newspaper from the coffee table, the same table which had been transfigured into Harry's temporary cott.

Harry raised an eyebrow at the Alchemist who was going through a stack of old newspapers.

"I fail to see how. If I'm back in the time I think I am, I'll have plenty of time to hunt down _his_ life-lines then do the bastard in myself. I know how everything will unfold, I am the Boy-Who-Lived, after all" Harry growled at the end, and looked in utter confusion as Nicholas laughed.

"Not quite" the Flamel tugged up the newspaper he was looking for, flipped it and presented the article to Harry.

' _ **The Girl-Who-Lived and Family to attend World Cup with Minister**_!'

Harry blinked.

Then he blinked again.

"What the fuck?"

Pernelle instinctively scolded him.

* * *

 **Quidditch World Cup**

* * *

Rose Potter cheered as Victor Krum snatched the snitch between his fingers. The fans of the bulgarian team all roared in approval, and Rose couldn't help but snigger as Ron groaned, already complaining about the Irish team.

Hermione snorted softly, but even if she did not hold any love for Quidditch, she could enjoy the matches.

Professional play was exhilarating to see, and as an amateur at Hogwarts, Rose enjoyed every second of her time at the world cup.

"Having fun?" a gruff but teasing voice came from behind her, and a large hand slipped into her hair to tossel it around.

"Padfoot!" she groaned, trying to duck under Sirius Black's teasing hand, even as he messed with her red locks of hair.

"Hands off my daughter you dog" Lily Potter stepped up and cuffed Sirius behind the ear. It wasn't done out of malice, and her teasing tone came through quite clearly.

Rose's godfather retreated as her mother approached.

"He does ask a good question though, are you having fun?" Rose tucked herself into her mother's side, a grin across her face as she nodded stupidly.

Lily snorted at the wide grin, but smiled fondly down at her daughter.

While Rose possessed the firm features of her father in a more effeminate variation, her mother's hair and eyes stood out quite clearly.

Unfortunately, she had inherited her father's messy hair, and while it could be combated, it took hours to do so.

Sirius had messed with a painstaking amount of work.

Her Dogfather barked a laugh, and stepped up to the other side of Rose, a grin across his features, "is it the game that's got you so excited, or was it that Diggory-"

"What was that?" an arm looped around the Black patriarch's neck, and a familiar head of dark hair came into view, "I didn't quite catch that"

James Potter was as confident, handsome and well dressed as ever, even when he was teasing around with his best mate.

"Oh" Sirius felt the arm tighten around his neck, "I was merely asking if your most esteemed and valued daughter was _digging_ the game"

Rose groaned into her hands as Sirius attempted to weasel his way out with the use of muggle slang.

James raised an eyebrow, "really? That's the best you could come up with? You-"

"Children. Please"

Remus Lupin was at the back of the booth known, playing referee for his friends with his soft yet commanding voice. Arguably the most mature of the Marauders, the part time werewolf had always kept his compatriots in line.

Rose did however notice the drink in his hand. A half full mug of muggle beer most likely.

"Oh no young Lady" Lily noticed where her daughter was looking, "you're far too young"

"But mum! It's a special occasion!"

Lily just gave a stern look.

"Fine" Rose huffed, bringing the small mug of butterbeer to her lips.

She felt magic ghost over her hand and glanced towards her Godfather.

He sent her a subtle wink before returning to the banter with James, having successfully changed her drink under the radar of her parents.

His wand was held sneakily by his side, out of sight of James and Lily. Only Remus had noticed the spell. Rose looked to Mooney next, and the man said nothing.

He merely took another pull of his drink, eyes dancing with mischief.

While he may be the more mature of them, there was a reason he was apart of the Marauders.

Rose grinned around her cup and drank.

She loved her family, no matter how silly they were.

* * *

 **Flamel Property**

* * *

"And where exactly do you think you're going?" Nicholas raised a firm eyebrow at the now stiff boy in the doorway.

They had talked most of the day away, asking 'Harry' questions about his world, and what he knew about his mode of transportation to this world.

Certain memories were given to the Flamels, proof of combat and truth. The boy had flipped out a small red book, turning through the pages before small vials appeared in his waiting right hand.

Harry had opted to not review the contents of each memory, leaving Pernelle to investigate the first memory for any foul play or trick.

She had returned ashen-faced, allowing Nick to take his turn.

Both were horrified by some of the images they were subjected to.

Flickered lights of spells closing between combatants from within the British Ministry. Harry had called this the first battle for the Ministry and was the more tame of the two that had occured. Witches and Wizards were bifurcated, dissolved, broken into hundreds of pieces and in two cases, inverted. Pernelle could not imagine what the more horrid fight had been.

In the rain that watched Harry rally people through large iron gates, flicking the occasional spell in the direction away from where the people were fleeing. All of them save for a few wore the same dirty white clothing. Many of them had gaunt and hollow expressions.

The Mudblood work camps that Harry had torn down to liberate and free the starved and emaciated witches and wizards.

Within the next memory, the dead rose up to wash against the walls of the Russian Wizarding fortress in Moscow. A plague of dead, raised by devote and vile Necromancers that worked for the Dark Lord.

Harry displayed a monstrous control of fire, something that hadn't been enough to slow the tide of the dead.

The city had fallen within a day.

Hordes of Inferni that had stormed Russia and the Ukraine were responsible. One scene that held the most strength and emotion was of a large and muscular red headed boy, swinging his wand beside Harry to help conjure more fire.

A green jet of light blindsided the boy, and Harry went berserk. Fire consumed the world for hours.

The next memory was cold.

Hidden within the mud and dirt, Harry's team lay still. They had caked themselves in their surroundings in order to avoid a patrol that was marching past them. Trees were outlined by the flashes of lightning. Their breathing was hidden by rain and the cracks of thunder.

One of his squadmates, a skinny boy with dark hair, was discovered in the dirt. Rather than being taken in for questioning and tortured, the boy shifted into a werewolf, tearing through the muggle soldiers as they peppered him with gun fire.

Another fantastic invention of war. Selective Lycanthropy. The ability to change into a werewolf at will.

Muggles and Wizards alike had opted for the treatment, becoming walking weapons of destruction.

Harry's team remained still. The enemy troops would dismiss the boy as a straggler from the werewolf factions, expecting him to be one of the wild and rabbid beasts spotted near by. Or perhaps a deserter from the German front lines.

In the end it didn't matter.

Two wizards approached and flayed Teddy Lupin into pieces.

The wolf was able to gore one of them though, pulling the wizard apart into two pieces before collapsing in a bloody heap.

After 15 minutes of reporting and reloading, the patrol moved out, missing the remaining hidden figures in the muck.

Pernelle had excused herself after that, refusing to watch anymore. She was obviously distressed by the violence and Harry had commented off handedly that she just the same as he remembered her.

Nicholas had given a long silence in response to that comment. He chose to study Harry instead of responding, once again checking his body for any toxins, poisons and malicious sources of magic.

Aside from an absurdly large magical core, the body was very healthy.

The boy had been sure that he had time traveled, that his nemesis, Voldemort, had devised a way to return to the past and wreck havoc. But as they had all sifted through news papers and clippings, it became increasingly clearer that while similar, this was not the world that Harry had come from.

One drastically different factor, and probably the most prominent of changes in this timeline was the events of Godric's Hollow, the night of Halloween.

James and Lily Potter had survived the Dark Lord's attack. He Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was still reduced to a pile of ash, but the family had lived.

His female counterpart had survived the Killing Curse as well.

Rose Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived, had grown up loved and cared for. She had many friends in both the wizarding and muggle communities, and was breaching gaps created by centuries of prejudice and racism.

Many saw her as a threat to their culture and society, but others looked to her as a beacon of change and hope.

The poster girl of the Ministry of Magic, a powerful witch for her age, and socially accepted, all things that Harry Potter had not grown up with as an orphaned wizard.

Flamel had seen the look of anger in the boy's eyes, the slightest of twitches in his muscles.

Jealousy.

He had not thought on it much, discussing the timeline changes with Harry had been fascinating and it had stolen most of his attention. This initial deviation had lead Nicholas to believe that the Girl-Who-Lived and Harry Potter were absorbed in different time lines, and no sense of similarity would be found past their birthday.

It seemed that large standing events were the same however.

While the Philosophers stone was not destroyed in Rose Potter's first year, she had indeed fought against a possessed teacher. Dumbledore had informed Nicholas of this.

An award for services to the school was given in her second year, which the male Potter had claimed was related to the slaying of a Basilisk. Of all the things that had been revealed, Nick found this to be the most believable.

Sirius Black was an Auror and partner to the formidable James Potter, and while in Harry's world the man was a innocent framed and convicted as a Death Eater, here it appeared that Rodolphus Lestrange had been Azkaban's escapee.

He had been thwarted by the very same girl he targeted.

There were parallels, enough that Nicholas could clearly note and compare, but that did not mean every detail was the same.

Back to the matter at hand though, the warrior that was attempting to leave the Alchemist's home.

"There's going to be an attack" Harry stated calmly, turning to face the Flamel with his hands tightening Dragonhide bracers, "Death Eaters will strike at the world cup in under an hour"

He was dressed for combat.

Robes fitted with a hum of magical enchantments. Dragon hide most likely, going by the coloration and the scales. It was incredibly difficult to charm and enchant Dragon hide. Most spell work slipped off the magically resistant skin, meaning that hours of work were needed for just one part of it.

Nicholas had the feeling that the boy had done his own work. He was not the kind to trust someone else with a creation that he must have worn everyday. Harry had probably slept with it as well.

"And you plan to meet them in battle?" Nick sighed, the simmering rage barely contained by the boy before him.

Harry nodded mutely, moving his hand to clasp the other brace. A small blank bandana hung around his neck.

"It will be more of a pain trying to stop you than permitting you to go, but my dear boy" Nick sighed softly, "perhaps this is no longer your fight?"

Harry stiffened again, his eyes narrowing, "what are you talking about" he didn't ask. It was a demand.

Nick rubbed the stubble on his chin as he spoke, thinking as he talked, "perhaps this is magic giving you a chance, Harry. A chance to rest and make your own life. You have finished your war, not only did you thwart your Voldemort, but you have been blessed with a chance to live-"

"No"

Nick stopped talking as the boy practically shuddered in rage.

"As long as he still lives, my war continues. I am here for one reason and one reason only" a small red book appeared in his right hand, the pages swiftly flipping to the desired chapter, "I will kill _him_. I _refuse_ to let this world be consumed by the war that _I_ failed to prevent in my own"

A strangely curved dagger appeared in his right hand. The book vanished but the dagger remained.

"Rose Potter is the girl who lived. His defeat is her responsibility, Harry. You are a dimensional traveler that has just escaped conflict-"

"I will not let anyone die again!" the boy shouted, losing himself for only a moment.

Both went quiet.

"You always saw the best in people Nick. You always tried to help me" Harry whispered, "but every day I slipped further and further from the light… I had to in order to stop him" Harry gazed up at the roof with solemn eyes, obviously fighting back tears, "I lost everyone I ever loved… as did everyone else, as did you"

Nick stayed silent. He had been trying to imagine a world without Pernelle. One where she had been taken from him.

"I understand that pain far better than I would have ever wanted to Nicholas. If I were to walk away now, I would be condemning everyone to that pain" Harry shook his head, a few drops of liquid leaving his eyes, "I could never forgive myself if I let that happen"

Both were quiet for a moment.

Nick approached Harry slowly, and gently brought the aching boy into a hug.

"I am not your Nicholas Flamel, Harry Potter" he felt the boy stiffen at this, "but you are a brave soul to do this, far more than most men" Harry slackened slightly, but tentatively returned the hug.

"I will not fail you again Nick, I swear on my life" more tears. This boy had not been completely consumed by war. He still had a heart, and as much as Harry wanted to deny its existence, the Alchemist knew it was there.

Nick scoffed slightly, but hugged the boy tighter.

"You cannot imagine how proud I am to have been your friend in another life. You shall always find a friend in the Flamel Household"

Harry nodded, as they separated, unable to look Nick in the eyes.

"You should probably get going"

Both of them spun to look at the lazy form of Pernelle, a soft smile on her face, "especially if you have people that need saving"

Harry nodded.

His knife flipped into his left hand and was sheathed in a small holster on his side. His black wand appeared in his right. Strange symbols and coloration decorated the wand, intriguing Nicholas, but the boy swept away from them, vanishing through the door.

* * *

Rose was roused from her sleep by Hermione. She blew a strand of her crazy red hair from her face, blinking up at the blurry form of her best friend.

"Rose! Get up! Quickly!"

The green eyed Potter did as commanded, sleepily getting up and bringing her glasses to her face.

"What?" she asked intelligently, rubbing her face softly as Hermione frantically moved around the room.

"Something's wrong on the other side of the camp. Mister Weasley said that there was some commotion or something, and he would sort it out, but they've been gone for over an hour!" Hermione flickered around the room, hunting for items and things to stuff in her bag, "I went to investigate Rose, and-" she was speaking more to herself, and Rose tuned her out in order to pay attention to the background noise.

The screaming reached finally the Potter's ear. Shadows of running people darted across the side of the tent. Witches and wizards were fleeing from something.

"Where are my parents?"

"Your mother told me to come get you and Mister Potter ran off to find Sirius!" Hermione said quickly, throwing a handful of clothes at Rose, "get changed!" she was scared, something rare for Hermione. No time to think about it however.

Rose slipped the clothes on as fast as she could, shaking the last vestiges of sleep from herself.

Finally buttoning off her jeans, Rose turned to the front of the tent as a familiar redhead stumbled in, dirt in his vibrant hair. Ron Weasley had been roughed up, but he was still quick to return to Rose and Hermione.

"Death Eaters" he said, out of breath and flushed in the face, "they started attacking the west side of the tents. They're coming this way!"

Hermione paled significantly and started speaking to him, but Rose stopped listening as something strange shadowed against the side of the tent. A dull crack of Apparition sounded a second before she noticed it.

It was an animal of some kind, four legs and a long tail. It was just past her waist in height, powerful muscles moving in tandem with its long limbs. Rose could describe its movements as gliding.

'Panther' a voice in her head told her.

Her only notice that Hermione noticed the shadow as well was her soft gasp. Ron followed with a delayed swear.

Neither of them snapped at the boy for cursing.

The shadow of the panther halted at the closed entrance to their tent, people cutting a terrified swath around it.

Rose could see both of its ears perk up, head pointed in the direction of the west side of the camp. It didn't seem to notice them.

In the next instant, it bounded off in the direction of where the Death Eaters were.

Rose didn't even hesitate. Deaf to Hermione's calls and Ron's words, she leapt out of the tent, wand held tightly in her hand.

The tail of the beast vanished around a bend of tents, and Rose gave chase, slowly taking in the fire and smoke which dominated the skyline. In the distance she could see the flashes of spells and charms.

"Rose!" Ron caught up first, trying to grab her arm, "what are you doing?! You're running towards the fight! You know that right?"

"Either leave me alone or get my six Ron! People are in danger and I'm going to see if I can help"

Hermione had caught up just in time to hear that snarl come from her friend's lips, and she flinched slightly.

None of them said anything for a few moments.

The panther was getting away.

"Well?" Rose almost snapped.

"We're with you" Ron said, drawing his wand and shifting into a firm expression, "if anything we can at least help with the evacuation!" he affirmed.

Both of them turned to Hermione.

"Someone has to keep you both out of trouble" she sighed, her wand shifting into her hand, "but if we die Rose, I will kill you"

Ron snorted and Rose smirked.

The trio dashed off, slicing through the crowd and moving as fast as they could towards the battle.

* * *

Harry prowled around the tents in his Panther Animagus form.

Anger and hostility bled from every pore of his being.

He had been late. The attack had started an hour earlier in this world, so he was unable to catch the Death Eaters as they arrived at the edge of the wards.

He was already costing the lives of innocent people for his blunder.

A snarl tore through his throat, the growl coming out far more intimidating then he had planned. People squeaked and screamed to leap aside and avoid the charging beast.

He was almost there, the sounds of battle having become far clearer than-

Stopping briefly, his notice picked up three scents. Two he recognised in a far off corner of his mind.

Ron and Hermione.

They had been following him.

Which meant…

Rose was right behind him, giving chase. He knew that apparating next to the Weasley tent should have been impossible, but it appeared that in this world Fred, George and Mister Weasley had set the tent up in the same location.

Harry was just as surprised as the witches and wizards that saw a panther apparate in between two wizarding tents.

Not dwelling to think about who would be in the tent, the green eyed beast had leapt off, picking up the smells and sounds of battles in a heartbeat.

The amount of people fleeing was significantly less here, meaning that he had the privacy to change back. He only had a few minutes before the Golden Trio was upon him.

Harry shifted quickly to his human form, pulling the bandana up across his face. His hair shortened and changed into a snow white, his eyes taking a blue tint and his face was covered perfectly.

One of his favourite creations was the Tonks Bandana.

Named posthumously after his dead friend, Harry treasured this tool.

While it couldn't alter facial features or facial proportions, it changed the hair and eyes to match with the current feelings of the wearer.

Until the Bandana was removed by the owner, the looks would remain. It had been an integral invention within the states, keeping hidden from Voldemort's Assassins and acting like any other wizard for hire at the time.

Identities were sacred and safe for the first few years. When Voldemort gained access to the American Wizarding Registry, that had all gone out the window, but it was fun while it had lasted.

"-went right around this corner, I swear I…"

Harry turned and gazed right into the green pools he had known so intimately in only a mirror.

Ron and Hermione were so similar it stung his heart. Her hair might had been slightly darker, and Ron's form was bulkier, but Harry saw everything of his old friends within them.

He blinked and focused as his counterpart addressed him.

* * *

"Who the hell are you?" Rose demanded, her hand tight around her wand.

While running she had explained the panther. Hermione had deduced it was an Animagus, and judging by the male they found standing where the panther should have been only proved it.

He was dressed without a cloak or cape surprisingly enough. Most wizards these days always traveled with one and only foreign wizards lacked one. His form was layered with an almost leather like clothing, each section divided over his body.

Hermione gasped quietly, and Rose could see the tension in her form out of the corner of her eye. She must have realised what he was wearing.

Ron took a small step forward, his wand was not pointed at the man, but ready to spring up at the stranger in a moments notice.

And he was a stranger with obviously less than noble intentions, going by the use of his Animagus form. He looked grizzled and grim. Rose didn't know what to expect when she began to chase the suspicious panther, but she obviously thought he was a danger.

White hair framed a hidden face. Blue eyes glared into Rose's, like her very existence offended this man.

"Children" he spat, flickering from their sight slightly, "I don't have time for you"

In the next instant he flickered completely out of sight, simply vanishing on the spot. For a brief second the air around him had looked like the haze one would see above an open flame.

Rose was lost for words.

What?-

Who?-

"Come on" Hermione cut across, "let's find out if we can help"

Rose took a second before nodding, pathing around the rest of the tents and coming close to the battle.

* * *

Harry exploded into movement as soon as he appeared.

The battlefield had become the barren scape of land created by the destruction of the tents, and the spell work from the Death Eaters. It felt like he was back in the war again.

It felt like he was home.

Harry's instincts knocked into overdrive.

His personal shields and armor absorbed the startled stunners from the Ministry workers, and Harry ignored them for the large group of Death Eaters battling before him.

More than three times as many than last time.

'Nothing ever changes' he thought to himself, noticing the bodies of civilians strewn between the burned out husks of tents and forgotten items, as he began to cast.

Six basting spells blew into the dirt, sending a rain of mud high into the air.

With a savage twist of his wand they were transfigured into identical shards of glass. A few Death Eaters felt the spell work, but even less managed to turn and see what was coming.

Harry slashed his wand down, the barrage of sharp glass following the movement.

Eight of Voldemort's servants were shredded by the downpour of glass.

Another Stunner impacted his shield, and Harry turned to glare at the wizard who cast it for a brief moment.

His heart almost seized in his chest. Messy black hair, and a pair of glasses dominating a familiar face looked back at him in horror.

James Potter.

Harry ignored him, and the ache in his chest, returning his focus to the battle. His father was horrified by the acts of brutality he was committing.

A large group of the Death Eaters that had been standing over a pair of huddled witches turned towards him.

Spells and curses of varying degrees were sent flying, and Harry either let them impact against his protections harmlessly, or swatted them into the dirt without a care. He had to dodge a few Killing Curses here and there, but the minimal effort was refreshing.

Ever since he had appeared in the fight, Harry had not stopped moving, practically strolling towards the servants of Voldemort.

His next barrage opened with Moody's personal spell. The Avenger.

A Death Eater exploded into a cloud of bloody mist, startling his friends.

Three large cutting curses followed, slicing deep into the enemy lines.

Harry began to will the ground to move at his command, forcing up pillars of earth and dirt. The return fire from the now disoriented servants of the Dark Bastard impacted harmlessly into the pillars. The Cruciatus and the Killing Curse were now the majority of their repertoire. How dull.

One by one, Harry began to banish pieces of the pillars towards the monsters in black robes, transfiguring them as they flew into deadlier shapes and material.

Howls and screams echoed in the night.

In the distance Harry spotted one of the Death Eaters turn his or her wand on the huddled figures that he had seen earlier.

They were still alive.

But not for much longer if Harry didn't act.

His dagger was drawn from his belt, and it pierced the dirt in front of him as quickly as he could bring it down.

In a heartbeat, the Death Eater was lifted into the air by a large blade that thrust through their back, dragging them into the sky for all to see. The pointed blade had burst from the ground.

Harry knew that a few would make the connection to his dagger, but he did not care. As long as innocent people lived.

Much of the battle between the Ministry and Death Eaters ceased as the follower was thrust into the sky crying in agony. Eventually the body went limp, and Harry snapped off his blade from the ground. The violent display of death remained, the body still suspended by the enlarged end of the dagger. Harry didn't worry about that, knowing that the projection of the blade would slowly turn to stone. It could never be traced back to him.

He shifted through the air, coming to stand above the cowering figures.

Familiar blond hair and blue eyes looked up at him, a miniature version of the girl clutched in her shivering arms.

"Please, do not hurt us" Fleur Delacour stuttered out in French tinted English.

"Wasn't planning on it" Harry smirked for a moment, his attention shifting for only a second, before it drifted back to the battle.

"Stay down and you'll get out of this alive, darling"

The Death Eaters that he now stood in the midst of had thought the fight over, and were ultimately confused by Harry's actions to move in between them.

In those few moments of hesitation that they thought Harry had surrendered, that Harry had given up, many of them forfeited their lives.

Because Harry Potter does not stop.

This _clean up_ was taking too long for his liking.

He vanished his wand into the holster he had retrieved from his book.

The Bandit's Secret was clenched firmly in his left hand, the Dagger now moved to his right.

As people began to turn to him from both sides of the combat, they saw the flash of light from around his wrist.

A small blue bracelet had appeared on his right, decorated in bright gems that let off a harsh glow.

At the same time, hanging low in the air above all of them was what could only be described as a blue star. It cast shadows long and far for every individual present.

Only two seconds had passed.

Harry smirked under the bandana across his face as he sunk into his shadow.

His blade dug into the back of the first death eater he came upon, before he slipped quickly back into their shadow and danced through the darkness to his next victim.

Shouts and exclamations of panic were now more frequent as Harry began hopping between their shadows, unseen by all of them.

Voldemort's forces obviously had enough of this. They were unprepared for the wild card that had been thrown into the situation, and decided to retreat before they suffered further.

Many of the Death Eaters were escaping, pulling out twigs and items before vanishing in a swirl.

Portkeys.

Their numbers began to dwindle very quickly, many stooping to pick up hurt comrades or dead bodies.

There were only a few of them left in such a short amount of time. Harry would later find it funny that they were so quick and ready to flee, but hardly prepared to fight a superior opponent. Right now, he was frustrated at their fleeing.

'No'

He needed information.

His eye caught on one of the Death Eaters that was holding out a telescope to another, obviously shouting at the other to hurry.

Perfect.

Leaping from one of the shadows, Harry cast a wandless and wordless Killing Curse. The pure magical exertion of it shook his bones, but it was necessary. He currently needed the book out more than he needed his wand.

The green spell sliced through the air, impacting with the back of the man that held the portkey.

Death Eaters were vanishing left and right as the body tumbled.

Hundreds of pages blew over in an instant, and the knife was replaced by a large gray cloak.

Harry's chosen target only gave a muffled cry as he appeared before him and smothered him with the cloak.

The material zipped and tied around the Death Eater, wrapping around the man completely before shrinking into a small ball. The Death Eater shrunk with it.

A crack of magic drew his weary attention away from the capture.

Harry's shield buckled under the shear amount of power that the stunning spell possessed, but it held.

Barely.

He fell to his knees in exhaustion, fairly aware of the advancing Ministry men and women.

James Potter, Sirius black, and a growing amount of Aurors had begun to approach him, wands drawn and aimed unwaveringly at him.

"Put the book down and surrender! You're surrounded" Harry narrowed his eyes slightly. It was of no concern that he was surrounded, nor did the approaching Aurors threaten him. The fact that his father (from this world) knew that the source of danger was the book irked him so.

Someone had extensively studied the Potter family history. Harry had the tiniest of feelings that his Dad wasn't as squeaky clean as many thought.

"He's knackered James" Sirius's voice cut across the air, "let's just stun him and be done with it"

James sighed, but kept speaking any way.

"This is your final warning!-"

Harry judged the distance between himself and the small bag containing the captured Death Eater.

"-Put the book down-"

His shields and armor wouldn't be able to hold up against the coming wave of spells. Harry knew he was fast, but thirteen tense Aurors and his trigger happy Godfather was not how he wanted to test his speed.

"-and stand with your hands up!-"

Harry supposed that it wasn't so bad if the Death Eater was captured by the Ministry. While it was annoying that he wouldn't be able to interrogate and 'remove' the piece of shit afterwards, the good guys would still benefit from this.

"You are-!"

"War is on the horizon Mister Potter" Harry used a subtle piece of magic to alter the depth and tone of his words, "you have two choices"

He decided to fuck with his Dad a little bit though.

Turning his head to face the Auror, he was impressed that Sirius managed to restrain himself as he stared directly at James, his eyes shifting back to their natural green for a moment.

"Prepare for the coming of the storm… or guide its path" he smirked at the dumbfounded expression on his father's face. Sirius was about to launch a spell in his direction.

Harry could feel the magic building from his Godfather and other Aurors.

"The choice is yours"

In a subtle movement, he flipped his thumb under the pages of his open book, the digit gracing the very last page at the back of the book.

A small candle appeared in his hand as the cloth vanished.

"Stop him! He's-"

Twenty Stunning spells flew towards him.

Harry had already broken the candle in half.

The familiar tug of his navel told him that the portkey had worked.

One stunning spell had managed to slip through however, and Harry's world went black. Sirius was a very quick caster indeed.

* * *

Hermione was pale. She felt incredibly ill at the sight of what the stranger had done. It was horrid, seeing him carve up people without a second of thought or hesitation.

Ron's face was blank, but his fists were clenched in confusion and fury. While Violence and Ronald Weasley were not mutually exclusive, he had no fond of senseless death.

Rose was silent.

Parts of her condemned the man for what he had done. Mostly she felt sick as well, but was able to control it better than Hermione was.

But a dark part of her, deep within both her heart and the back of her mind, thought the man had done a good job.

They were Death Eaters! Servants of Voldemort, their whole purpose was to inflict pain, fear and death upon-

"Rose? Ron? Hermione!? What are you all doing here?"

Tonks, a family friend and the cousin of Sirius, slipped into view.

"Nym" Rose almost stuttered in surprise, "w-wha...Hi!" she finished lamely.

"Rose Dorea Potter" a much more serious voice stepped up from beside Tonks, the clump and stomp of an artificial leg announcing the presence of Mad Eye Moody far before the man appeared, "what a surprise. Finding you and your compatriots so close to trouble, how strange"

"Al" Rose took lead, stepping forward to take the blame, "we heard the fighting, and we came to offer help, but-"

"But nothing Potter" Alastor snapped, side stepping around Tonks and looking down at the three of them, "a battle between Death Eaters and Ministry officials is not something that children should be privy to, less so to even participate in"

"We just wanted to help Al!" Rose exclaimed, "there could have been wounded-"

Moody swiped his wand, which had suddenly appeared in his left hand, against his arm.

A thin trickle of blood appeared on it.

"Al! What are you doing! You-"

"Heal it" Moody cut her off yet again.

"What?"

"Are you deaf Potter, I said heal it!"

Rose went silent.

Before Hermione could step forward and fix the self inflicted wound, Moody muttered his own spell, closing up the cut like it had never been there before.

"How are you supposed to help any wounded if you can't even stop a little blood Potter. Any witch or wizard could bleed out in moments, and your scrambling to remember even the most _basic_ of healing spells would condemn them to death"

The lesson was slowly sinking into her skull.

"I get it" Rose said softly, ducking her head under the dark locks of her hair, "I.. I'm sorry Al"

Moody remained terse and silent.

Rose looked up to stare at him, and for once in his life, Moody seemed to look with both eyes.

"I also _get it_ Potter. You want to help. Ever since that Lestrange business your neck has been on the line. But running into danger is not the same as being prepared for it" Moody didn't growl, his voice was oddly calm for once, "the day you are able to help, you'll know it Potter"

"Right, Al" she affirmed, desperately hoping against all hope that-

"I _will_ be informing your father about this little escapade" he stepped in again, "you too Weasley" he growled at Ron's groan.

"But Al!" Rose tried to whine, but Moody was impervious to any and all acts of cuteness.

If a puppy was said to have ties to a dark wizard, Mad Eye Moody wouldn't hesitate to blast it six ways from sunday to get what he wanted.

Without any further adieu, the dark wizard catcher began clomping off in the direction of the other Aurors. Many more had appeared once the fight was concluded, different wizarding devices and tools out, scanning the nearby area.

Bodies were already being removed and witnesses were speaking with the relevant authorities.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Ron and Hermione gave startled yelps at the man's surprise roar, but Rose was used to it. She was already sinking into herself thinking about what her father would say.

Tonks gave a sad smile as she followed after her teacher.

"Right you are boss" she snarked from behind him.

"We're in so much trouble" Ron groaned.

Hermione was too disturbed to say anything.

"Let's just get back to the burrow" Rose mumbled, turning away from the battlefield. The others followed without any hesitation.

* * *

Sirius stepped back towards James, having finished speaking with Barnes and Cain, both of whom had given their memories of the combat over to the senior Auror.

His partner was in a deep discussion with Ministry officials and Alastor Moody.

Sirius maneuvered over the charred tent poles and debris, his attention on his red faced friend.

"You tell me then! How do _you_ think he got through the port key wards if it wasn't an officially issued port key, because I haven't got a _bloody clue_!"

Sirius saw the reason for his annoyance.

Lucius Malfoy, stood calmly with the same air of regality that infuriated the Black Lord on the daily. The Malfoy patriarch was head of a ministry law committee, so of course he had accompanied Minister Fudge and Madame Bones.

"Potter" the head of the DMLE scolded, "keep it civil"

"Sorry boss" James replied, "apologies, Malfoy" he returned frostily.

"No offense taken" Lucius replied, his voice suggesting the contrary, "I'm asking you these questions because you had direct communication with the culprit. I had hoped you had gleaned something, but it appears not"

Smug bastard.

Fudge, the portly Minister with a bowler hat, finally chimed in with his own intelligent question.

"This was a Death Eater attack then? Are we sure?"

Sirius bit back a laugh as Amelia was barely able to restrain an eye roll.

"We managed to recover only three bodies, and one living individual. The clothing, masks and the dark marks present on their skin would suggest so" James stepped in again, saving his boss from a snarky reply to the cowardly Minister.

Needless to say the hundreds of eye witnesses that could attest to the attack.

"What has the living individual managed to say?" Lucius asked, his hand subtly moving over his cain.

Oh that bastard.

Sirius just knew that the prat was aware of what this was.

Unfortunately evidence was required, and there was no way he could currently prove that Lucius was aware of the attack before it occurred.

"Nothing yet. He's still trapped in that bloody cloth" Sirius joined the fray, garnering the attention of everyone present.

"Auror Black" Amelia nodded at him, "anything you wanted to add to that?"

"It's a magical artifact of some kind. I saw it in action. Our guy wrapped up that Death Eater in the cloak and it just shrunk him down into a small little bag. Very convenient for transport" Sirius smiled, but turned serious again at Amelia's expression, "don't know exactly what we can do to take it apart, but the guys are suggesting we let the Unspeakables look it at"

Bones shook her head in the negative, "do that and we'll never get our suspect. Markus and Percival can look into it"

She sent off a patronus, "and what was this about a killing curse?"

That got Fudge and Malfoy's attention.

James took a second.

He hadn't told his boss about what he saw, which means someone else had witnessed the terrifying act of magic.

"Wandless and wordless. Very effective" Moody had remained quiet up until that moment, "the lad has had training in shock and awe tactics. Scare the enemy then take them apart"

Amelia looked to James, "is this true?"

James just nodded, "incredible transfiguration skills. He's a very creative individual. All wordless spells and conjurations"

Amelia nodded, already going through her mental list of wizards capable of such feats.

"And what purpose does the book have?"

James looked to Lucius, contemplating how best to stage an accidental death. Malfoy knew far more than he let on.

"Book? What book?" Fudge asked, hoping to remain relevant.

"I have heard that our culprit utilised a small red book. It remained on him at all times during the 'battle'" Lucius summarised, his gaze locked on Potter.

James fumed.

Sirius stepped in once more.

"The book remained open the entire fight, and the suspect was able to use various magical items when it remained in his hands. It would come as no surprise to myself that the book enabled him to do that freaky shadow moving thing"

"We find who this is" Amelia ordered, "and we get him to talk. I've got hundreds of questions and this guy has probably got all the answers"

"Bring him in?" Fudge was shocked, "but the man has cast an Unforgivable! Azkaban would be the correct solution!"

Oh cornelius, always so eager to push things under the rug.

"Aside from the corpses of Death Eaters" Sirius was surprised by the venom in James' voice, "I've got 9 dead civilians and 42 wounded. As much as we could try and keep quiet about this situation, I hardly think it's going to stay silent for long"

Fudge blustered and sputtered, but it was Amelia who took the reigns.

"As much as I hate to say it, Potter is right. We need answers Cornelius. The public will want them as well. As of right now this unknown wizard is our top priority. Put a word out for the hit wizards and assign a bounty. Alive if possible" Amelia swept away, calling a few Aurors to her as she moved to ask other questions.

Before she left however, "also, consider speaking to the French Minister before you attend any press events… both of his daughters were saved by our suspect during the fight. Keep that in mind before you go condemning the fellow"

And she was off, barking orders and flowing into the way of things.

Lucius excused himself and moved off in another direction.

Fudge followed, helplessly asking questions and looking for support.

"I suggest we compile all the memories and review them at a later time" Moody rumbled, "Also Potter, your little girl was trying to sneak around. Not so subtle I'm afraid"

James frowned, "I'll have a word with her after I get through all the memories"

Moody nodded, "good, then we can wait a few days before I put the word out" he glanced around the large space where the fight had taken place, "I'm not in the mood to go hunting right now"

Sirius smirked at the old man, "what? Don't think you could take on a powerful wizard anymore old man?"

Moody growled back at Black, "no. I just think I'd be more inclined to share a drink with the lad. He's exactly how I'd train any of my lot during the war" Moody clomped off, not bothering to look at the two Aurors anymore.

He was probably going to go speak with his protege.

"Office?" Sirius asked.

"Office" James nodded, and they both disapparated.

* * *

Harry kept his eyes closed as he woke, taking in his surroundings using his other senses.

It was a sterile environment going by the smell, but probably not Saint Mungo's.

No noise aside from the light breath of-

He had used one of his candles to escape! Which meant he was right in the presence of his favourite person in the world.

"I took the liberty of removing your armor and weapons" the drawl was unmistakable, and Harry could practically hear the frown on the face of Severus Snape.

"Had some trouble with the mask then?" Harry smirked under the Bandana that was still attached.

"Something tells me that it wouldn't be worth the effort trying to remove" Snape sounded oddly calm, but his voice was layered with anger.

"Now this is going one of two ways. Answer my questions, or-"

"You'll blast a hole in my memory and leave me a drooling vegetable on the side of the street?" Harry finished for him. He couldn't help but mess with Severus. The man had always been a hard ass, but they had developed a friendship after the Ministry attack. If he had guessed correctly, Harry had undergone a series of rituals and experiments in the very room he was held captive in. Well, a few years from now in this very room.

Snape's impromptu operating table had very powerful manicles that held Harry in place. Unfortunately for Harry, the Potions master had cut off the connection to the seal on his left hand, meaning Harry could not summon his Book.

"...who are you" Snape demanded softly, surprising Harry with the intensity of his voice. The vicious undertone was still there, but it was muted, as if he just couldn't quite get his mind around certain thoughts. Snape wasn't usually so conflicted with his thoughts.

'Maybe it's because Lily is still alive here?'

"Probably not whoever you think I am" Harry replied flippantly, "but there is no easy way to explain this"

"Currently you are tied to a magical operating table that I am in control of. There is no way to leave the table once I have closed the restraints. Your options are _very_ limited and if you do not start talking, I _will_ start flaying your mind for information"

Harry sighed, finally opening his eyes and looking up at the stone ceiling. Snape would upgrade to charmed steel in six years, when he had saved enough money for such an expensive upgrade.

It would be the decision that saved his life from the second and third German blitz.

The table was perfectly flat, so Harry had to lift his head up slightly in order to observe the Potions master.

It appeared that this Severus Snape was the same as his physically. Dark hair cascaded around a proud yet angry visage, a hooked and large nose dominating his features. His eyes were narrowed at Harry, automatically suspecting the worst of him.

"You'll have to take a nice deep dive if you want your answers Severus" Harry smiled back at the man, even though the bandana still covered his face he knew that Snape could tell he was smiling. He purposely made direct eye contact.

Snape hesitated.

This boy knew. Somehow, this random individual knew that Snape was an accomplished master of the mind arts.

It was a trap.

It had to be.

The boy was offering a free ticket into his mind, but it felt wrong. The boy was too confident. Definitely a trap.

"...no. I don't think I will. Explain with words" Snape sneered, as if speaking to a child in his potions class, "that should provide sufficient context"

"Or what?" the boy snorted, "you'll dock points?"

"Do not test my patience boy!" Snape had his wand in hand, arms crossed, but it twitched slightly in the direction of the boy. He had better control of his need to hex prats since he stumbled across James Potter, but that didn't mean he had limitless patience.

The boy went silent, quietly watching Snape for a few moments.

Severus opened his mouth to warn him again, but the boy started talking.

"Your name is Severus Snape. You grew up at Spinner's End in England. Your father was a muggle and an alcoholic. By your own admittance you blame him for your mothers hospitalisation at Saint Mungo's. She would die after your sixth year, leaving you alone when your father moved out"

Snape felt the floor lurch beneath him, but the air had left his lungs, leaving him incapable of speaking.

But the boy was not done talking.

"However, you strived past your life's misgivings. Entering into the art of Potions and some of the Muggle Sciences, you began to carve a name for yourself as not only a formidable individual, but a seasoned practitioner of your trade. Your accolades mean nothing to you in light of the compliments given to you by others, and those you hold dear are very far and few inbetween. If I am correct, currently you are working on an ancient Greek potion, one that was lost-"

"ENOUGH!"

Snape was breathing hard, his eyes cold and furious as he glared through the 'boy' before him.

How had he known?

These were private thoughts. Most of them not even Lily knew, and she was privy to far more than just anyone.

"Like I said" the voice drew his attention, and Snape wanted to snarl at the boy, "take a dive"

How.

It just wasn't possible for him to know anything that-

Snape stopped, closed his eyes and took a calm breath. Anger wasn't getting him anywhere.

He locked eyes with the boy once he opened his own, and started sorting through all the information that was presented to him.

* * *

Sirius Black and James Potter fell out of the Ministry Pensieve in modest shock, James more so than Sirius.

Both of them took a second of processing the information in silence, before, typically, Sirius broke the quiet.

"Bugger me" Black was stuck somewhere between awe and respect, "that's a bloody powerful wizard! Never seen of anyone like it! Finite and minor control over every aspect of transfiguration must have taken him years to reach that level!"

James went quiet at that, reminded of the red book that the wizard had used to attack the death eaters.

"And the magical items he used! Bloody hell Prongs, we-" Black finally turned to see the sickened look on James' face.

"James?" he asked quietly, fully facing his dear friend and fellow Auror, "what's wrong?"

"He's a Potter…" the man allowed, "I've… it's old family magic that the Potters used… like a magical catalogue of different things…"

To Sirius, James was rambling and he couldn't understand a word of what his best mate was trying to convey.

"Come on. Let's sit down"

Moving to the two seats in the office, Sirius turned a very reserved shade of serious, and brought his friend's attention to himself with a snap of his fingers.

"Now" the Black patriarch commanded roughly, "what are you on about?"

James took a deep breath, centering himself and looked to his friend before explaining.

"The magic that the unknown wizard displayed, that red book" James took another moment, confirming thoughts within his head in a simple nod, "it's an ancient form of combat that my family used. I'd have to go over the books in the family library to get the name specifically, but that wizard was a Potter"

The definite demand in James's voice startled Sirius slightly, as did the firm gaze.

"Mate, you can't be sure-"

"The books are used to store and seal magical items of various sizes and designs for the purpose of combat. Are you telling me that anything our suspect pulled out of thin air wasn't meant for combat?"

"The cloth didn't seem-"

"Sirius. He trapped a fully grown wizard by shrinking him into a cloth prison"

"Did they get him out?"

"Yeah. Apparently the shrinking isn't permanent. Also, it was Wilkes, but that's beside the point!" James fumed, "it's Potter magic! So either our culprit has reverse engineered the old ways of my family…"

James pointedly let Sirius finish his thought.

"Or he's a Potter"

"Exactly" James slumped back in his chair, took his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose in irritation, "I'm not sure what bothers me more; the fact that there's another Potter out there, or that he's actively using a weapon of war"

Sirius spluttered around the small sip of Firewhisky he was trying to discreetly sneak in.

"Weapon of War?!"

"Don't be a prat" James snorted, "what else do you think a book like that is for? To be able to instantly deploy a serious of dangerous magical equipment and materials at a moments notice. An invisible source of rune work and power that can never truly leave your person? Of course it's a weapon you dolt"

"But for times of war?" Sirius was being honest enough to himself to admit he was intrigued. James didn't like to share some of the deeper history of the Potter family for personal reasons.

They hadn't always been the kindest of families…. Nor ones that leant too spectacularly to the 'Light side' of magic.

"...there were tales" James finally began, wanting this off his chest more than just wanting to explain to his friend, "that these books were capable of holding more than just items"

James conjured a cup and held it out to his friend and partner, giving him the unspoken permission to drink on duty.

Sirius diligently filled the cup with Firewhisky and repeated the same for his own transfigured mug.

It was like a light shone behind James's eyes.

He remembered what the ability was.

"Saccularius" James finally spoke again, "that's what they were called"

"Thief?" Sirius translated hesitantly, "you Potters used to be thieves?"

"Not us" James admonished, smiling at his friend's expression, "the books. The tales said that they could steal the magic of other wizards and witches"

Sirius once again spluttered around his drink, "steal magic? Stop pulling my leg"

"That's what the stories say" James shrugged, "A Saccularius hasn't been made in generations, let alone used. So I don't know how valid it is" he locked eyes with a photo on his desk, Rose held tightly in his arms as a baby, "I've got a nasty feeling that it might be worth looking into"

Sirius hummed non-committedly, watching his friend with caution.

James hadn't been this quiet since Peter.

But in case this was some long lost Potter relative, Sirius let his friend brood. Sometimes silence was a healthy answer for an uncomfortable situation.

The Gryffindor need to charge headfirst was a normal response, but the Black knew when it was appropriate to do so.

"Food for thought" James spoke up finally, "what do you say to accompanying me to ground my daughter?" a light smile dusted James' face.

"All for it!" Sirius cheered, standing from his seat with a smile.

* * *

"And she died?"

"Indeed" Harry nodded, sitting across from Snape in his lab, "you went to the Dark Lord with half the details of the Prophecy. You begged for Lily's life, and Voldemort did not hesitate to end her when she became an inconvenience"

Snape wisely remained silent, instead drinking from the cup he held between shaky fingers.

He had pillaged through Harry's mind, devouring the information that was there, as well as the truth of Harry's existence.

It had knocked him off his feet when he had escaped from the boy's mind.

Snape had said he was mad, or that it was the truth.

Unfortunately, Harry was sound of mind, and the memories were true.

Both lamented on the former being the more comfortable of realities.

And so Severus had unchained him, brought him a chair, and they spoke. Snape with an initial layer of caution that bled away into an entirely comfortable pattern of speech.

Harry would poke him with a new piece of information, Snape would recoil and snap at him. The boy would just laugh and rebuff him.

Rinse and repeat, until Snape finally stopped snapping.

"You never forgave yourself, even when you lay dying in my arms" Harry mumbled, glancing at his own cup and wondering how much alcohol his body could tolerate.

Best to find out sooner than later.

"How did I die?" Snape was sniffly about the question, but he was curious. Any man would be curious about their own death.

"Poison" Harry knocked the cup back, filling it again with the bottle of muggle Vodka on the small table between them.

Snape snorted, "Nagini?"

Harry hummed in affirmation, taking another pull.

"I'm not sure if you were more distressed by the fact that it was poison that got you, or that you were dying in the first place"

Snape glared, but his heart wasn't in it.

"I'm glad you draw such amusement from my death, Potter, it fills me with joy to know I am still capable of entertaining you" he drawled.

Harry chuckled at him, raising his cup towards his professor from another world, "to your good health?"

"Long may I live" Snape allowed a flicker of a smile across his face, clinking his glass against the other.

"Now comes the hard part, Severus" Harry put the glass down on the table, stood, and began moving around the lab.

"Oh? I was not informed of any further plans" he continued to drawl in his acidic tone, the comic feeling of their conversation still lingering.

"Enough"

Snape had been on the receiving end of that tone and command many times before in the past.

However it had usually originated from a man more snake like than human.

Harry was all business now.

"Dumbledore cannot know about me. He'll risk my plans and prevent them due to the prophecy. Even if he were to accept my existence or my... _methods_ , he would not let me continue as I intend. Not without repercussions"

"Noted" Snape stood as well, coming to stand across a the brewing station that Harry was beginning to operate, "you have my word that I will remain silent of your existence"

"I want more than your silence, Severus" Harry didn't look up as he began allocating materials and equipment, "I want your help"

The red book appeared in his left hand, and strange devices began to appear on the table.

A well maintained brewing kit among jars and pots of materials.

"My help? You seem to have everything in order, Potter" Snape looked down his nose at the boy, his eyes also focused on what Harry was doing.

"I do not have a reliable source of information within Voldemort's inner circle. Nor do I know how the Order operates in this world" Harry glanced up at him, "you've played for two sides before, does a third really make any difference?" his eyes darted back to the potion he was preparing, a small knife beginning to slice red leaves that he had casually tipped from a jar.

"...my incentive for doing such a thing would be...? Snape finally asked, curious.

"I refuse to let you, or anyone else die" Harry's eyes burned as he glared at the man, "I will not fail again. Not this time. Not again"

The boy cared for him. Snape was still getting over the history of warfare and combat that he had experienced. The events that lead up to it were equally concerning, but chief among them was the thousands, if not millions of lives that had been lost.

And here was a weapon of war, carefully brewing a potion that Snape could only guess as to its purpose, ready and willing to continue his fight to prevent others from having to face such horror.

He'd call it honourable and brave to have such intentions, but Snape would rather be dead than to openly compliment a Potter.

"I accept"

Harry grinned at him, "welcome to the team"

"I am honored, truly"

Harry glared, but said nothing.

"What are you brewing?" Snape couldn't help but ask, the itch to know exactly what Potter was developing in his lab frustrated him. Especially so, since he could not tell for the life of him what he was making. The ingredients made no sense, and Snape could not even recognise some of them.

"Just giving you a headstart on reverse engineering that Greek potion you've been working on" Harry smiled like the devil, but it wasn't enough to dissuade Snape.

"What?" he asked dumbly, confounded that the boy was working towards a potion that he had spent five years failing to replicate.

"In the later years of the war, we needed more than just powerful wizards. Muggles outnumber us 12 to 1, and even if on average we 'hit' harder than them, helping them helped us" he measured out a purple liquid, pulled from a vial that had appeared on the desk.

It was deposited into the the now bubbling cauldron, the frothing concoction turning a neon yellow.

The leaves were that he had been slicing were elegantly sprinkled in as he kept talking, "you not only perfected the ancient Greek potion, but you improved upon it, Severus"

The frothing stopped and the potion turned black.

"How so? How did I figure it out in the first place?" he needed these answers.

Harry smiled to himself and flicked to another page in his red book.

"Have a look for yourself"

A tiny black notebook appeared on the table.

The initials on the cover read, "S.S"

Snape had never moved faster in his life to grab the notebook, hungrily tearing through the pages to devour the knowledge within.

After getting himself up to speed with his future(?) self's knowledge, Snape started brewing another potion that Harry requested.

Neither would admit the comfort in brewing side by side, but both wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was more than shocked to have received a letter from Nicholas Flamel.

Nick had not contacted him a long time. Having stepped away from the real world ever since the situation with the Stone, Albus knew that the Alchemist kept informed, but refused to participate.

So note only receiving a letter from his old friend was shocking, but so to were the contents.

" _I wish to enroll my heir"_

Simple. To the point. Blunt. Attributes that Nick rarely let out unless he was unsure of something. His own attitudes towards Albus had been delegated into a yearly response, and while polite, there was some heat occasionally between the two.

Unavoidable really, but Dumbledore took it in stride. The immortal Alchemist could hold a grudge far longer than he could.

Grudge's aside, this letter was all Albus could immediately think of.

Dumbledore had not hesitated to stand from behind his desk, clear his schedule for the dark, and promptly Apparate to the Flamel Property.

The same quaint and small home awaited him, the familiar smell of the oak wood trees swayed through the breeze. The air was cold, but not frigid.

Nicholas stood in front of his door, his face tight, but not unwelcoming.

"Albus"

"Nicholas" Dumbledore replied, hoping to keep things positive, "I came as soon as I received your letter"

Nick huffed in exasperation, "I suppose we should speak inside"

Albus nodded and followed the man in, moving to sit in one of the arm chairs as Nick placed himself on the couch.

Pernelle stepped into the room, a smile on her face. She did not feel as heated towards Albus as her husband did, but nonetheless was annoyed at the old man.

"Tea?" she wondered.

"If it's no problem" the headmaster dipped his head in thanks.

"My heir. Male. I've kept him under wraps for a long time now, but it is time he got a taste for society" Nick really had no patience today, his own discomfort coming clearly across his face.

"Does this mysterious Heir have a name?"

"Ares" a new voice chimed in.

Pernelle had reappeared from where Albus new the kitchen to be, but the newcomer came from the very same door the Headmaster had entered through.

"Ares Flamel" the boy had immaculate black hair, sweeping across his face and back behind his head. He stood taller than most, a straight back and firm posture even as he casually lingered in the doorway, studying Albus.

Dumbledore looked back at him.

The boy's powerful green eyes turned to look at Nicholas, " _this_ is Albus Dumbledore?"

Said Headmaster felt slightly ruffled at the comment, but was no less amused by Nick's groan.

"Yes indeed. Albus Dumbledore, Ares Flamel… Ares, meet Albus. Your new Headmaster"

The boy stiffened slightly, his stare turning to a glare for the briefest of moments as he once again appraised Dumbledore.

"Are you sure I can't go to Beauxbatons?"

"Positively" Nick replied, acid in his voice, "your… personal situation is not welcome there"

Ares growled, but said nothing. He turned back around and strode towards the forest.

The twinkle had not left Dumbledore's eye, "young adults, always such hot blooded and passionate"

"You have no idea" Pernelle smirked as she handed Albus a cup.

Nick sighed again, very wearily.

"May I ask as to what brought this on? I had my suspicions that another Flamel was running around somewhere, but he does look…" Dumbledore paused for a few moments, thinking of the best way to put his question.

"He's adopted" Pernelle said softly, the situation obviously causing discomfort to her.

Her and Nick shared a look.

Albus attempted to read between the lines, but when he came up with nothing, merely said, "if it is a private matter, I shall not ask"

That in itself was tantamount to an unspoken question. Something that Nick picked up on and Pernelle ignored.

"It is probably better that we do tell you…" the wife of the Alchemist sighed, "but it is not a _pleasant_ story"

Nicholas went straight in for the kill however, not bothering to beat around the bush as Albus gazed upon the two of them in wonder.

"He was experimented on. His family was personally killed by the Dark Lord the moment he was born. He's held a personal grudge against You-Know-Who for a long time"

Dumbledore didn't know how to react at first.

'Oh Tom… how far did you fall?'

"Does he know?" he asked instead, glancing out the window to see the boy casting spells through the woods.

"He's an intelligent lad. Eventually figured it out for himself, but we told him the truth when he asked" Nicholas thanked Pernelle for the tea after he spoke, blowing on it softly and taking a small sip, "to be honest Albus, he does not need the magical education. He's adapted far faster to his situation than most would have. No, what he needs in a taste of society"

Albus nodded, encapsulated by the story.

"At first we thought Beauxbatons… but his parents, his biological parents, were British, that much we could discover. It feels _wrong_ to send him elsewhere"

"How did you come across him?" Dumbledore wondered, nodding to the memory of the boy's real parents. Whoever they were, he hoped they would be happy knowing their son was to study at Hogwarts like they more than likely had.

The Flamel's shared another look.

"Once again" Albus reiterated, "if it is a private matter..."

"Somewhat" Pernelle spoke softly, gazing out the window, "he practically turned up on our doorstep. Accidental magic if you ask me. We tracked him back to where he had come from" she spoke softly as Ares flung spells like a mad man, "he's a long way from home"

"But he's here now, and that is what matters" Nicholas took her arm, giving her a comforting look. In response, Pernelle smiled softly at left the room, going outside to speak with the boy.

"I know that you know, that I'm still mad at you" Nicholas began, his eyes on the door his wife had left through, but his attention was on Albus.

"Indeed I do" Dumbledore replied, taking another sip of the fresh tea.

"But I'm willing to forgive everything you've ever done if you can help that boy Albus" Nick looked into his eyes, "it is not the school work or the education that he needs Albus. The boy needs friends. Desperately. People to care about him, and people he can care about. While we can love and care for him, you know how closed off someone can become to others"

Gellert.

Nicholas was talking about Grindelwald before Albus' friend and partner had fallen. Fallen into the deep pit of dark magic.

There wasn't a day that went by that Albus wished he couldn't go back and save his friend. But the past remained where it was, frozen in history.

"I understand completely my friend. You do not have to bribe me with platitudes or promises Nick, I will do all in my power to help him, you know this" Albus smiled wistfully, conveying his honesty and promise to his friend.

"Thank you" Nick smiled softly.

"Now" Dumbledore put his cup down, a thrill of excitement coming over him, "How old is the boy? What year shall he be placed in? I wouldn't dream of sticking him with the first years, but seventh year would waste the purpose of the school for him!" Albus smiled jovally, "I've never had to deal with a situation like this before. How exciting!"

"He's thirteen" Pernelle supplied softly.

Nick smirked in response to Dumbledore's words, "I would suggest fourth year. Enough time to build relations with others, but also not to far ahead that he is just a temporary memory for most" Needless to say, it would not be so far back that it would be an insult to Ares' skills.

"Marvelous. Shall I owl you the list of school supplies?"

"Send it directly to Ares. I hope you can build somewhat of a cordial relation with him" Nick seemed to want to frown and smile at the same time, "we're giving him the reigns now. It is his choice to determine how he wants to live. We can only give him the opportunities, he must make the choices"

"Indeed" Albus nodded, standing, "may I speak to the boy?"

Pernelle came through the door, her face neutral.

"That might not be the best of ideas" Nick replied, interpreting her expression.

"He's in a mood right now" she replied.

"All the more reason" Albus smiled, "you asked for my help and I shall give it"

Nick snorted, "fine. But if he asks you to duel please say no. The house can't take anymore of his… _enthusiasm_ "

Dumbledore chuckled, and swept from the room, biding Pernelle and Nicholas a good day.

Ares stood close to the woods, gouges of dirt and toppled trees marking his handy work.

"What do you want?" the boy snapped, not turning to face Albus as he sent off some powerful slicing and cutting curses.

Excellent form and silent casting. At such a young age too. Very impressive.

"Merely to talk my dear boy"

"Don't call me that"

He had replied very quickly, with a snappy attitude. "I am no child, _Headmaster_ Dumbledore"

Albus studied him, softly taking in the sweaty figure. Intense physical training, coupled with magical exertion. Talent and drive.

Ares had shucked his shirt and robes in favour of a bare chest and free hair. His pants were dark and loose, swaying in the breeze.

The boy's shoes were by his shirt. Books were piled around them.

"I can see that" Albus' smile softened. The boy was snappy and defensive, for reasons that Nicholas had already explained. Surgical scars covered his back, arms, and probably trailed across his legs and feet.

Experimentation.

He had become jaded and closed off from the truth, receding into his own strength and anger to defend himself from the reality of his existence.

"Really? What else can you see?" the boy snarked, turning to face Albus, confirming the truth of the scaring. Clinically applied on his chest and abdomen. He was expecting the headmaster to revile and retreat from disgust. A defense mechanism that the jarring sight would have worked on lesser witches and wizards.

Two lines of scarring traced each collar bone, and one thick line moved from between his chest towards his waste.

"Pain" Dumbledore admitted softly, "a pain that will never leave you"

The boy seemed startled, physically moving back from Dumbledore as if struck. His green eyes widened then narrowed.

"What do you know of _pain_ Albus Dumbledore?"

"Many things" Albus smiled still, his heart aching at the sight before him.

He decided to give a little, and see if he would receive.

"Gellert Grindelwald was once a close friend of mine. A man who held the closest position in my heart, far closer than perhaps my own family"

The boy flinched, not expecting the information.

"But… but you were enemies! You fought and dueled him! You defeated him!" the boy accused, jabbing a finger at the Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"Indeed I did. Gellert had chosen his path at that time. I was unable to dissuade him. Eventually we crossed paths again… the pain of his loss is carried with me, every step I take it is there with me" Dumbledore closed his eyes for a brief moment, allowing some memories to take hold of him for only a moment, "I carry this pain, as you carry yours"

"... do you regret anything?" Ares asked after a moment, looking away from Dumbledore, "anything at all?"

"Being unable to save him. But I've made my peace with my choices, and who I am" Albus had extended the proverbial olive branch.

"Whatever you say old timer" the boy snarked back, but it wasn't malicious. His words were not charged with hate or aggression.

"Food for thought" Dumbledore took an expression out of James' personal book, enjoying the look of soft confusion on Ares' face.

"I look forward to seeing you at Hogwarts this year, and hopefully the years to come" Albus said as a goodbye, meaning every word.

A reply halted his apparition.

"Will you duel me?"

Dumbledore remembered what the Flamels had told him.

"Perhaps during the school year, we could go a few rounds" Albus winked, not saying no, but not saying yes either.

The boy frowned at him, but looked away with a nod.

Dumbledore departed in a soft crack of air.

* * *

 _It is probably full of errors I know, but I'm in the middle of a cafe in fuck all nowhere so please give me some slack /3. I hope you all enjoyed what I've made so far. Depending on the response I get I'll continue this story._

 _If you have any thoughts or suggestions for things you want to see, I'll add them or argue why its going to be a good idea. This is NOT a harem story or any crap like that, nor is it an OP stomp harry story. There will be exactly ZERO bashing or unconditional hate because I don't believe in unjustified anger or dislike. If people do bad things, they should be despised, but 'bad' is subjective so shut your mouth._

 _I've got other story idea's that will be appearing some time soon for different fandoms and worlds. If you have any challenges or what not you want to see from me, I'll try it out if I agree with it or like the concept._

 _For any of you that know me from 'Destiny Still Arrives,' that story is not dead nor is it dying, I've just needed to branch out into other topics first in order to stratch my many and varied itches. I hope you can all understand that I'll be taking more time between stories due to different idea's and my upcoming university courses._

 _Fantastic shit._

 _Like I said, all inspiration and credit goes to Kathryn518 for her AMAZING story, "I'm still here"_

 _Read it first, then complain that mine is aweful._

 _Have a lovely day_

 _-Freedom_


	2. Chapter 2

**If you would like to read more about this particular story, please tell me so.**

* * *

Strength matters.

Not just in terms of magical ability, but in physical power as well. If the war had taught Harry- now Ares -anything, it was care of one's body. To be alert for illness, weakness, and damage.

Harry blinked again, his vision sharpening further and further by the second.

Snape had moved a few meters back and into the minimum safe distance that had been established earlier. He was studying the boy with a wand in one hand, a pen in the other.

Yet another day of experimentation within the potion lab of Spinners End.

"No significant side effects have occurred," Harry told the man, "but conjure some writing. Adjust the size until I can't read it"

Snape didn't bother to nod, just doing as the boy requested. A brief spiral of his wand and letters floated in the air supposedly made from flame.

Harry looked at the conjured 'fire' and began to read aloud.

"I, Ares Flamel, am a complete and utter-" he glared at Snape, " _random_ letters and numbers will be fine"

Snape let the corners of his lips curl into a smile, but did not complain or comment. He changed the wording and Harry read it out.

The lettering and numbers changed then shrunk.

Harry repeated them aloud again.

On this went, until the size of the script were comparable to one of Hermione Granger's essays.

"That's as far as I can go" Harry grumbled.

"Almost 30 feet" Snape calculated, "I'd say the potion was an improvement, but you mentioned that… the other me… was far better at what he did"

Harry dismissed those words with a wave, "the other you, as you like to put it, had been deeply immersed in the war, Snape. Of course he had improved beyond your current level. He made sacrifices for the sake of improvement… just like the rest of us"

The Potter boy from an alternate timeline moved to a hastily prepared desk. While it stood out from the rest of the well placed and neatly arranged equipment Snape had amassed in his lab, it was not something to make a fuss over.

In fact, it seemed partially natural for the boy to take up residence and work within the laboratory.

Harry had left papers and documents sprawled all over it, a complete mess that somehow managed to result in creations far beyond the potion master's comprehension. Organized chaos was something even Severus could appreciate. That did not mean he had to like it, but it got results.

The boy had reminded him that he was just repeating what his 'other self' had done. If anyone deserved the knowledge gained under the other Snape's instruction, it was him, Severus Snape.

Harry had parted with the journal, saying that he had already taken the necessary notes from it. He was strong now. Snape could be free to tread however he wished, even if it was in the footsteps of his predecessor(?).

Snape had watched him down the Greek Potion only an hour ago. He had observed the effects of the neon green substance.

Part of him wished he didn't, but a sense of morbid curiosity had forced him to observe.

Harry had told him that he would need only a few hours to recover, but that a silencing spell might be best for Snape to utilize.

The potion would rearrange the body of its user, granting every physical improvement any could imagine.

While technically the potion was classified as some kind of rebirth of the human body and had all of its sources, references, and suggestions burned throughout history, a single name remained for those that looked far and wide.

Exousia.

Translated into modern english, it was simply known as 'Power'.

An old potion. Very old. Some muggle historians were vaguely aware of the effects of this potion, regardless of what it truly did or the community behind it. Stories of 300 men, all muggles, facing incredible odds against a foe that outnumbered them.

A small village encamped behind enemy lines within roman controlled Gaul. That particular story had become a well mannered and childish comic.

Many warriors throughout ancient history had feats of strength and power recorded from their abilities gained from the potion.

Such as the mighty Hercules.

He had been real. The effects of the potion on a normal human body could be significantly more disastrous than a magical one, and the muggle boy that had grown to become the man of myth and legend had suffered many ailments before his untimely death.

But Harry was magical. Thus his body was attuned to the effects of any and all magically altering substances

He was no Asterix, Leonidas or Hercules. He was so much more than that.

It started at the legs. Every bone in Harry's feet shattered at once, and the black haired boy collapsed backward in pain, howling like a stuck puppy.

Snape remained still, resigned to watching.

The legs broke apart under the skin, and bone and muscle tore itself apart, moving and altering itself.

Snape was impressed that Harry was still awake, that the boy could even bring himself to watch the slow mutilation of his body.

Large cracks echoed through the space, and even though Snape couldn't hear them, he saw Harry sit up ramrod straight. His mouth was wide open and eyes facing the ceiling. Probably screaming his lungs hoarse.

He had every right to pass out as his spine finished adjusting itself. The rib cage moved under his skin, finding a new position for the now enlarged form of the body it was contained in.

His organs would grow to match the new body size, and while no longer a scrawny Fourth Year, he could easily pass for a strong and powerful, physically imposing Fifth Year. Hell, Snape would have guessed at least a Sixth Year.

Harry's unconscious body would writhe and flop around for an hour longer until the boy would lay still.

A part of Snape found it interesting how no blood was spilled the entire time. Not a single drop.

Fascinating magic in its own right. A healing spell that damaged in order to expand upon and improve the body. Rebreaking bones so they would grow back stronger. Tearing muscle so precisely and ever so slightly, again and again, only to rebuild it in the exact moment.

An eternity of agony condensed into minutes.

No large amount of bulk, just strength.

Power.

The potion had run its course, so Snape canceled the silence with a dismissive flick of his wand.

His body remained still for a few moments longer.

Harry…. Ares gasped, his eyes snapping open as he bolted upright into a defensive stance.

"Easy Potter…" Snape spoke to a startled animal, "you're in safe company"

His wild eyes snapped to him, startled green filled with a quiet fire digging through his soul.

"It worked," the potions master said, hoping to jog his memory and get the boy to look away.

He brought his wand forward and Harry twitched towards him ever so slightly, before calming down again.

"You said something about an eye test?"

And here they were, Harry rubbing his eyes as the other man in the room observed him.

"I believe you've done enough for today, Mister Flamel" Snape drawled, hoping that the boy wouldn't pull out some other ancient and horrendous concoction from a bygone era.

Harry let off a chuckle, a smooth one filled with tangible mirth.

"Albus is visiting the Flamel property soon. Nicholas has already sent the letter off announcing myself as his heir apparent… there's one final touch to make this story believable Severus"

The red book, the Sacclarius, appeared in Potter's hand. Snape hadn't the first clue as to all the capabilities of the magical invention, but he was aware of its usage as a storage device.

A short blade, definitely Japanese, appeared out of thin air. Gravity took hold and it began to fall.

Potter's hand darted out faster than Snape could track it, catching the sheathed Tanto. His hand held it directly before the guard. Like lightning his thumb flicked the sword out ever so slightly, exposing the blade.

Snape did not feel the need to know what the red glow on the edge of it was.

"I need you to be very precise Severus"

Snape blinked.

Potter twisted the sheath and presented the blade to the potions master, "Dumbledore will be getting part of the truth, but this will be a very well placed lie. The only lie needed to lead his mind to different conclusions"

The plan was to present Harry as a British orphan, one that was created through the expense of magical testing by Voldemort's forces. This would explain his inherent hatred of the dark wizard, as well as his need to train so hard.

He was to a be a boy that grew up with so much hatred held close to his heart, that he wished for nothing more than the death of his perceived foe.

Every detail given to the Headmaster of Hogwarts would have some founding in truth. Right from his origin, the death of his parents, his age, everything would be crafted around half truths. Harry had learnt from the best after all.

Snape swallowed thickly, slowly drawing the red tinted sword.

"What do you want me to do?"

Harry shucked the form fitting clothing, remaining only in boxers. Taking his wand into his left hand, he began to trace small ethereal lines across his body.

Snape understood what he was trying to do. But it was flawed. He voiced his concerns.

"The scars would appear too fresh for some kind of _surgery_ that occurred in your youth"

Harry smiled at him, tracing the last line absently, "that is no ordinary blade, Severus. I stole it from one of the Death Eater groups defending a horcrux in Japan"

His wand vanished from his hands, the lines that Snape would have to trace remaining on his body.

"You'll see" Harry spread his arms wide, beconning the potions master forward.

Snape hesitantly stepped closer.

"Nice and smooth. Like a knife through butter," Harry's face held a smile for a brief moment before his eyes shut, and his body tensed.

Snape brought the blade forward and started with the chest.

Blood trickled across the form of Harry, and to Snape's utter bewilderment, the cuts created by the Tanto healed, the scars deepening into old wounds. Far older than was physically possible.

A strange magical blade, why would it-

Oh.

How horrid.

"It's used to make examples of people… isn't it?" Snape asked, having finished tracing Harry's chest and moved to his back, "to let them never forget who gave them the wound, or why"

"Mhm" Harry nodded, "it's also like having lava dragged across your skin, so while I appreciate your attention to detail, feel free to hurry it up"

Snape snapped his jaw shut and continued mutilating the boy's skin.

He was finished in the next 10 minutes.

"Good work" Harry afforded, examining himself in a conjured mirror, "I guess I'll see you in class, _Professor_ "

With a swish, his clothes flew back onto his form. In the next second, the red book was back, the sword vanished, and with the crack of a candle, Ares Flamel disappeared.

* * *

Present time, Diagon Alley

* * *

The ' _clump'_ and ' _thump_ ' of Alastor Moody's peg leg would always proceed the man unless a silencing spell was used. Many had come to know that sound, many more feared it.

There is a saying that an old man should be feared in a profession where men die young. Mad eye Moody was the perfect exemplar for this saying. While others had been hurt, murdered or fallen in the line of duty, Alastor Moody had cauterized his own wounds, sealed shut slices, and even fought around dismemberment.

He was driven.

But he also knew his limits.

The task set down for him by the head of the DMLE was a heavy one. This new person of interest that was being printed in every copy of the Daily Profit and had his face plastered on the reward Posters on the walls of every establishment in Wizarding London, was a ghost.

Completely off the grid.

A large majority of Moody's connections had never heard of a young man or the likes that could be capable of such destruction. Albus Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were among the wizards of note capable of the feats displayed at the Quidditch World cup.

So in Knockturn alley, Moody had to talk to one of the shadier individuals he was associated with. At a small tavern called the Witches Whisper.

Like the person he was here to meet, these were individuals that the Ministry would glance over in order for them to continue the flow and trade of information. No questions would be raised about the source or the method of acquiring this information, as long as it was credible.

A symbiotic relationship. But one that had only been established fairly recently.

Before and after Voldemort, these people were untouchable by those operating on both sides of the law. But the dark lord never cared for spies or traders of information, so many had been culled during the War. Now they were beginning to spring up from the dirt again.

Knowledge had a price, and the more secretive the information, the higher the price.

Moody had a cordial relationship with only one of these brokers. Due to his fearsome reputation, more than a handful refused to even contact the Auror.

"Col"

Alexander Col sat calmly at the bar, his attention still on the door. He was a weedy man. Thin and lithe, with a hollow face and sunken eyes. Most people would equate him to a skeleton. However, you couldn't tell this from the thick clothing he was always bundled up in.

But his brown gaze was sharp and cold. This man knew how to work behind the curtain. He had thrived off of it.

Col wasn't just any survivor. He was the best.

"Wasn't followed" Moody grumbled, pulling up a seat beside the man, a Galleon flying through the air.

Col caught it in his fist, examining the coin before pocketing it slowly.

"What cha' wanna know, Mad Eye?"

"You've seen the posters" Moody paused to order a beer, "someone like this doesn't come out of nowhere. A lad like this would make waves, and not the kind that you could ignore"

Col scoffed, taking a healthy pull from his drink, "ain't that the truth"

Moody was dumbfounded.

"So nothing then? This fellow has been off the grid for his entire life, then suddenly decides to reappear when Death Eater supports come out of the woodwork? Bollocks" Moody scoffed.

"And I agree you old sod" Col grumbled, looking to Moody now, "how disturbing do you think it is for myself and my associates when a powerful individual decides to make himself known by cutting up more than two dozen Dark bastards?"

He had nothing, and Moody was fairly certain that Col was more terrified of that prospect than he was letting on.

A powerful killer was out there, someone who wouldn't hesitate in cutting another man down for the furthering of unseen and unknown goals.

The Auror downed the rest of his pint, deciding that enough was enough.

"Slow down Mad Eye" Col raised a hand in a gesture, "I've gotta give you _something_. You've paid after all"

Moody sat down again, his attention on Col who was glancing around the bar.

"This is… new. I've only just been informed today… but the Flamel's have an Heir" Col took a drink, glancing around again, "he's attending Hogwarts this year… I heard you'll be the defense teacher"

The Auror sat back in his chair, reclining slightly. His gaze turned to behind the bar, but he wasn't really seeing. He was thinking instead.

The immortal alchemist brings out an heir into the public? For what purpose? Alastor had met Nicholas Flamel before. While he talks a lot and appears like most wizened Wizards, his flair for the eccentric was unmatched. But he never did anything without a reason.

Nicholas Flamel was a man based within the realms of knowledge and purpose.

Hmmm.

"What do you know about the heir?"

Col went pale but didn't talk.

Moody tossed another Galleon, which the information broker caught. Alexander Col swallowed thickly but continued to speak.

"Something about the Dark Lord. One of my feelers saw him in Madam Malkin's… he was talking to the Weasley boy" Col sighed and rubbed a hand across his gaunt face, "Moody. He has these scars covering his body… the Weasley asked about them…. The boy said he got them from You-Know-Who"

Moody didn't know what to make of it.

While it was unfortunate that no information concerning Britain's Wizard of Interest had come up, there would be plenty of opportunities to try and get the Flamel's into the order.

Especially if their boy harbored ill feelings towards the Dark Lord and his followers.

"I'll be in touch"

Col just nodded at Moody as the man hobbled away, returning to the dingy streets of Knockturn Alley.

* * *

"You wouldn't believe who I ran-"

Both Rose and Hermione gave a startled jump as Ron appeared around a bookshelf. They were in Flourish and Blotts, looking for a particular assortment of parchment that had eluded Hermione so far.

"Ron! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" Hermione hissed, calming herself in a second before turning back to the shelf.

Rose had been able to process what he had said, and cut off his mumbled 'sorry'.

"Who?"

Ron took a second before remembering what he had hurried to tell them. His face became serious, and he stepped closer, checking over his shoulder and in front of them for other individuals.

"You remember the stone… from our first year?" he whispered, and Hermione ceased her search in order to step closer and listen in.

"The one made by the Alchemist" Rose brought up quietly, her mind coming up with memories of the trials and traps she had braved alongside the others.

"Nicholas Flamel" Hermione added, "what about him? He's here?"

Ron grinned, "his son is. He was at Madam Malkin's when I was shopping for dress robes, you should have seen him! He had-" Ron stopped, his eyes having glanced over Rose's shoulder to the other end of the ile.

"I'd be more careful with my words, Mister Weasley, you never know who might be listening"

Turning away from Ron, Rose was hesitant to look at the person who had spoken.

As it turned out, the smoking voice had originated from a tall Wizard clothed in jet black clothing similar to his slicked back hair. They were freshly tailored clothes, obviously from Madam Malkin's where Ron had run into him. Rose couldn't deny his was striking, someone who she would be able to spot in a crowd without hesitation.

He was handsome. In an eerie kind of way though. Something about him not only annoyed Rose, but it also made him terrifying.

It was probably the smile that didn't reach his eyes.

The same eyes that were poisonous green, the kind of green that haunted Rose's nightmares, the ones involving-

"Looking for this?" he turned his attention to Hermione, who noticed the Arithmancy book in his hand.

"Y-yes" the Witch stuttered, obviously taken aback by this man.

"Ares Flamel" his smile remained, handing the copy to Hermione. The girl accepted the book after a moment of hesitation.

His attention then snapped to Ron, "a pleasure meeting you again Mister Weasley, I suppose I might see you on the train"

And he swept past them, moving deeper into the book store.

Rose let out a breath she didn't realize she was holding.

"He's... scary" Hermione finally allowed, clutching the book closer to her than normal. Rose just nodded, taking a second to turn around to see if he was truly gone.

"Tell me about it" Ron muttered, "when I bumped into him all he did was stare at me. It was like I had offended him or something" Ron grinned, "he'd give Snape a run for his money though"

Hermione looked confused.

Rose was the one who asked, "how so?"

"Well I can't tell which one of them has a stick further up their-"

"RON!"

Rose exploded into laughter as Hermione chastised Ron. They left the store together, trying to keep the uncomfortable meeting with the Flamel heir out of mind.

* * *

Harry was cataloging books, a small list on parchment floated alongside him as he scratched off titles he needed to collect.

Having already acquired the necessary ones for Hogwarts, his mind was devoted to a new project of his, one that would be conducted at the school.

His ears picked up hurried footsteps even before the approaching individual came around the shelf.

Glancing sideways for a brief moment, Harry recognized that head of blonde hair anywhere. While it would be interesting to see where he placed himself with the Draco Malfoy of this world, he wouldn't be against-

"Potter!" the boy hissed, moving closer to him.

Harry's eyes widened for a moment.

Then his instincts kicked in.

Draco found himself dragged to a corner of the store, a wand to his throat and a knife in his stomach.

"Wait! Wait! Wait!" the Malfoy heir hurriedly assured, his hands coming up in surrender, "it's me Potter!"

"You made it through as well" for his own sanity he had to say it. While obvious, the words took a few seconds to sink in.

Analyze. What does this mean?

Harry looked at the shorter boy, glancing over him, "what happened to your copy?"

"Can you put me down first, and I'll explain?" the knife pushed a little closer, "okay, okay! Talking!"

Draco took a breath in.

"As you can obviously guess, something went wrong during the ritual... if you even remember what happened? I get only glimpses, but never full memories"

Harry nodded, "the same. I battled Him, but I don't know if I won"

"Won? Harry, you nearly killed every living thing in the room before you and Him fought. I remember the look on his face when you broke the enchantment line"

Harry pulled the knife back a bit, giving Draco some space.

"Do you know if anyone else came through?"

Draco shook his head, "I was knocked into it just after you. I don't know if He made it through before the gate collapsed… but it's possible"

"And your copy?" Harry put his weapons away, fully stepping away from Draco so they could speak.

Draco laughed, but it was bitter, "I didn't get one. I just woke up in my bed, like it was all a bad dream. I had thought that maybe you got stuck in the Girl-Who-Lived, but…"

Harry brought up a hand to his face, "please don't tell me you approached her"

"I had to be sure" Draco's face went a little pink, "while I confused the hell out of her, she obviously didn't understand what I was saying. Ever since then I had assumed I was the only one"

"How long ago was this?"

"I've been back for a few months… so I had assumed the rest didn't make it. None of them showed up at any of the contact points. Until now, you didn't"

Harry hummed in affirmation yet a tinge of frustration before speaking, "we had assumed there would some fixed date, but we were all aware of the risks… that it might not have worked"

"Beats being back in the War" Malfoy muttered, his face turning gloomy, "I thought I was all alone you know? That I'd be the only one who could remember-"

Harry flared his magic, getting the boy's attention and cutting him off simultaneously.

"I'm here now… that means there could be others. Nevertheless, the plan continues" both knew the tasks that the Potter heir had set out, that if they were able to regroup they would route out the cancer of the Wizarding world and cut it out.

Both took a second to study the other.

"You've already taken that damn potion" Draco observed.

Harry nodded, "have you done _any_ preparation?"

The blonde shook his head, "minor rune work, nothing too obvious. Father knows I've been acting strangely but just assumes I'm growing up" Draco frowned.

"You never were a front line soldier you blonde prat" Harry smiled at Draco's instinctive scowl.

"I wasn't cut out for spy work either, Scar-head"

A comforting hand found its way to Draco's shoulder and gave the smaller boy a squeeze, "you did good work Malfoy… more than any of us expected. Don't be so harsh on yourself"

Draco hummed in thought, before finally asking, "what about the Flamels?"

"Nicholas believes most of my story, but I'm not inclined to tell him the rest… this Nicholas… is very different from our's"

Draco couldn't understand, but he nodded anyway.

"There's been an adjustment to the plan in the works. Since I'm not sure if any of the others have made it through" Harry brushed his hair back, "we can discuss this more on the express, but I suggest you go home now… things are about to get crazy"

Draco nodded and made to step away.

A hand caught him.

"One more thing. Snape's in on this. I'll organize a meeting between the three of us, but before then do _not_ make contact"

Malfoy had so many questions but knew better than to doubt his Captain. Harry had arguably led them through worse situations. So he merely nodded and left. He would get his answers in a week's time.

While surprising to have a war hardened Draco Malfoy by his side, this did help with the hollow feeling of solitude that had been working into his gut.

The greatest informant since Severus Snape that had been right beneath Voldemort's nose within the coveted 'Inner Circle'. Malfoy had been a priceless asset, the same one which revealed the location of a Horcrux… the same place where Hermione had-

Harry stopped thinking, forcing his body to go on auto-pilot.

Leaving the store he apparated away, ready to continue.

Focus and control.

* * *

The familiar poem was bolded above him, telling any thief to take heed of the warning, but Harry continued unperturbed, approaching the massive doors of Gringotts.

An unfortunate necessity for today would be an _expedition_ into the lower floors. An expedition that would serve to infuriate the Goblins that manned the bank.

Unfortunately for them, Harry needed what was down there far more than they did.

As he had discovered a day ago, the Sacclarius didn't bring everything with when he had been shifted into this world.

Some of the more powerful items collected were no longer stored within its pages. After a brief visit to Russia, Australia and America, Harry had found that not only did the items still exist, but they were in the same locations where Harry had found them the first time. He had deduced that their tie with magic itself must have neutralised the bond created by the book. Or perhaps such items could not be carried through the boundaries of time in any kind of magical sarcophagus.

So Harry had been in the process of recollecting them. While he felt the need to tackle the easier ones first, now was the perfect time to retrieve the weapon within Gringotts.

Security had been displaced and moved by the Ministry due to the attack at the world cup, meaning that only the Goblin guards and defenses were present and manned. While the bank was considered important, many believed it already had enough security and feared for their own businesses.

In summary, this would be a walk in the park.

Harry slipped the bandana across his face in an alley, turning his hair a beautiful white, and his eyes a furious red. Pocketing his ace in the hole, the Potter advanced from the dirty alcove he had been preparing in.

Upon stepping into the crowded street, he realized that the bandana might not have been the correct choice.

Not the best of color schemes had been selected, as in the five minute walk towards the bank many people turned their heads or gasped at the white clothed Wizard stalking towards Gringotts.

Many stumbled out of the way of the red eye'd individual. Red eyes were in fact the hallmark of someone who practiced in dark magic.

The Auror's would be here in 5 minutes at this rate.

Harry had only taken a few steps up to the door of the bank before a guard had practically rushed him with a halberd.

Many watched on as the Goblin proceeded to interrogate the dangerous looking wizard.

"Who be you, Wizard"

Harry studied the guard for a moment, wondering if he should dignify him with an answer.

"A proof of your hypocrisy" Harry stated flatly, and with a shrug of magical effort, flung away every single Witch, Wizard and Goblin within a 15 foot radius.

Panic and chaos exploded onto the street a moment later, and Harry even had to catch a few spells in the back from Witches and Wizards in the crowd.

But his ears picked up a more important sound.

A bell had begun to chime.

The bank security alarm had been activated, and the gigantic doors were swinging shut. Taking a page out of Voldemort's book, Harry erupted into mist, sliding through the closing door a second before they shut completely.

A bombardment of spellfire was flung his way, many of the patrons of the bank joining in with their Goblin account managers. All of them cared for their money, and why would they assume that this individual was breaking into Gringotts for something other than money.

While shielding was possible, it would be draining. Better to change the environment to suit him.

Three tables and chairs were transfigured into three towering stick-men. A stomp to the ground, and a wall of earth and marble floor was erected in front of the wizard. As the stick men kept the defenders of the bank occupied, Harry got to work with his plan.

The red book appeared in his left, and pages began to dance across his fingers.

There.

An oriental brush appeared in the groove of the book. Flicking his wand to the holster, Harry slashed the brush through the air, creating a floating symbol of ink.

That would hold out the Auror reinforcement for the time being. If one studied the corner of the symbol, they would notice the almost sizzling property of the ink as if it was burning away.

This was Harry's time limit. 20 minutes before the seal collapsed, and Wizarding England's best were going to plow through the door.

His thoughts refocused on the bank, and its many occupants.

Pages flew between his fingers, his eyes searching for just the right tool.

There they are.

Two strange metal balls appeared in his left, each with concentric circles covering them. These circles were electric blue and shifted like the surface of a lake.

"And I say to thee, copy my eyes, copy my soul, take your magic, take your toll" the balls began to spin and shift as Harry let go of them.

Magic shifted through them, and the Potter boy felt the tug of it right down to his bones, each sphere taking a large chunk of his magic in order to be used.

With a shimmer of mist and air, two copies of himself sprung up into existence.

"Keep them distracted for as long as you can" Harry ordered the copies, each dressed identically to him, "immobilise, do not kill"

They nodded, pulled out a wand and a dagger each and leapt over the wall.

A few wizards had been taken out by the animated creations, but the amount of spell fire was still significant. The copies would have a hard time staying in existence once the Auror's came through. But then again, that was all Harry needed.

Time.

Peaking past the wall, Harry could see the wrought iron gate that lead to the lower levels.

His body shimmered, the heat of magic overcoming his form.

There was no snap or crackle, just that he vanished from view. Only a few individuals in the bank had seen him disappear.

Appearing behind the gate, the Potter heir turned into a tornado of destruction, banishing and stunning Goblins left, right and center.

He practically danced through their defences.

The sword was down here somewhere and he would not stop until he had retrieved it.

* * *

Amelia Bones was having a _very_ bad day.

The muggle coffee machine that the department had gotten as a birthday present for her had exploded this morning. Magical overload.

Two individuals had been kidnapped from a transport on the way to a hearing at the Wizengamot.

And now Gringotts was under siege by potentially Britain's No.1 most wanted.

While she believed beyond a doubt that the wizard currently breaking into Gringotts was the same one that was responsible for fighting back against the 'attack' at the World Cup, she also believed that there was little to no chance he would be coming out of the bank alive.

If James Potter and Albus Dumbledore were to be believed, the only one who had was The Dark Lord, something that Amelia could totally imagine.

"Boss, we've got a situation"

James Potter was the first on the scene. His partner, Sirius Black, had gotten the call and both of them had shown up as fast as possible. The shaggy haired man was looking at her expectantly.

"What is it Black?"

"Our security manager can't open the door. He says something has blocked it from the inside"

Bones sighed and stepped away from the protective ring that kept the crowds away. Approaching the bank door where a huddle of individuals were gathered, she slipped right into control of the situation.

"What's happening people?"

As a head of the Dark Magic Task Force, an incident such as this got her onto the field more often. Something that Amelia would forever appreciate and enjoy, but not something she would admit to her superiors.

"Some kind of seal or ward, placed on the inside. I've got no clue how it's keeping the doors closed" Makrus, head of the Warding and Magical Artifact department replied. His Deputy, Percival, was still flowing his wand through the air, colors and shapes rebounding off the door in rapid succession.

"We've tried reversing enchantments, counter wards, and simulated dragon fire" Percival spoke, his keen eyes analysing the closed doors, "not a thing"

"Have you tried anything powerful?"

"Blasting and cutting does nothing, even from multiple casters. Gringotts wards are still in effect somehow. Like the door is frozen in time" James Potter cut in, slightly out of breath.

Magical exertion probably. He must have been the one to figure out that offensive spells were doing nothing to get through.

"Should we contact the unspeakables?" Sirius said, his arms crossed as they talked. His eyes remained on the door however. He was frustrated, for sure. Sirius Black being asked to wait for a potential fight and life threatening situation?

The man lived on adrenaline so this was torture for him.

"Maybe. If we can't get this damn thing open soon the press is going to make us look like fools. Locked out of our own bank" Amelia considered the door as she stood next to Black, "give it another 10 minutes, then we call the cavalry"

* * *

Four goblins were in the passage ahead, each of them capable of inflicting some serious damage. Warriors, not like the ones that guarded the front of Gringotts. The closest thing that the Goblin nation had to a special forces division.

Those within the bank must have concluded as to what he was looking for.

It wasn't like they were oblivious to the item held in the deepest vault.

"How do we want to do this? Blades? Magic? I'll be fair and let you pick" Harry strode around the pillar, stepping into the dim torch light of the hallway. The black door was behind the guards, the promise of his goal only a few meters away.

The Goblins didn't reply. They were far too professional to speak with an intruder and 'thief'.

Two blades were drawn, and the diminutive figures rushed at him, ready to slice him apart.

Harry had tangled with these soldiers before. Perhaps not the same individuals that he had battled in the old world, but he knew what their weapons and armor could do.

Magically repellent armor, something that wasn't cheap to create nor easily available. But Goblins never did anything in half measures.

Physical combat it was then. Magically enhanced items would do little, and Harry didn't feel the need to kill them. While easier, he would prefer to not have the Goblins baying for blood after he left the bank.

His senses picked up the shot before it hit him, and swiftly sliding to the right he observed a crossbow bolt soared passed his head.

As it trailed in front of his eyes, the glistening tip was obvious with his enhanced vision.

Poison.

Harry's book appeared, his wand vanishing as he called upon a far more important weapon.

The curved blade clashed with the Goblin steel, the resounding 'clang' echoing in the tight corridor.

Grinding the blade down to the hilt, Harry lashed out a kick at the chest of the first Goblin, probably cracking his ribs with the force of the blow.

The second Goblin had hesitated.

He wouldn't say it, but the Bank defender had probably recognised the Goblin Steel that Harry also wielded.

It would cost him.

Coming out from the kick and drooping underneath the hurried swing, Harry body slammed the smaller Goblin. The form of the guard was flung into the wall, his form crumpling against it for a moment.

Stunned, for now. He would be dealt with in a moment.

Two more bolts soared towards him.

A mad dash later, and Harry broke the arm of one of the shooters. The other pulled out a dagger as his comrade fell.

As it swung towards him, Harry clasped arms with the Goblin, wrenching the arm away from him in order to redirect the jab.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the other Goblin standing up, readying for another attack.

Harry twisted the wrist further, breaking it. There was only a grunt of pain, but one faceplate punch later, and Harry was left with a sore fist and an unconscious Goblin. The armor was dented, almost folded in on itself.

But he did not forget about the last individual.

The Goblin rushed him, probably knowing that he would lose. Harry wasn't about to let things go any other way.

Slipping into his guard, Potter disarmed the guard, forcing both arms above the creatures head and putting him into a headlock.

The Goblin struggled as it was lifted from the floor and denied oxygen. His arms were held in a way that he could not retrieve any of the weapons hidden on his person. The only option left was to strike at Harry's exposed face.

A few hits shook Harry's vision, but aside from that, the Potter boy held strong.

Eventually, the defender slipped into unconsciousness and Harry dropped him to the floor unceremoniously.

Only the door was left.

Harry stepped over the fallen form of the valiant guard, praising him for a moment. Even against all odds, the Goblins would go down swinging. Not as individuals, but as a race. In the pages of history one would be hard pressed to find a cowardly Goblin.

His gaze turned to the door, the sword being exchanged for wand once again.

"Hidden away in the shadows, far from any natural light… smart. I'd do it the same way" Harry strode past the unconscious guards, coming to stop in front of the door.

"Elementia Rex"

His wand glowed a hot red, the veins down the side of it pulsing with power.

In a fury of heat and power, magma burst from the wand to physically burn through the door.

In a sizzle, the door started to give, but not fast enough.

This would take a bit.

* * *

Whatever had been holding the door open must have expired, because suddenly the Auror and Ministry Forces were able to enter.

In an almost erie way, the door had remained untouched, even when Amelia had brought in some individuals from the department of mysteries.

Three unspeakables had appeared on the scene, studying the door and futilly attempting to enter.

Bones hoped they wouldn't let their failure get to them. Because anything that was capable of thwarting the Unspeakables, or anyone attached to the Department of Mysteries, had a habit of disappearing into a dark hole for years. Especially the Wizards responsible for fooling said parties.

"It's… it's open!" Percival shouted, stepping away as the doors swung open.

"This is it everyone!" Black rallied the Witches and Wizards, each of them turning their attention to the opening doors, "our suspect is inside! Don't let him catch you with your pants down!"

Amelia gave Black the stink eye for the last comment but the man merely winked at her.

James Potter was the first through, wand up and ready. A large wall of earth and mud blocked his view, but once he had stepped around in, Potter was all business.

The inside of the bank was a mess. Overturned tables and chairs, scorch marks on the walls and ceiling, there was clear evidence of a battle. Bodies lay strewn everywhere.

"Possible wounded" James called behind him, stepping over the form of brown robed wizard.

He cast a diagnostic spell on the man.

Still alive but unconscious.

"Movement!" Frank Longbottom had been third into the large space, exploring out to the left from behind the dirt barrier.

Five flashes of light flew towards them.

James swatted away two and shielded from the one he did not recognise.

Seemingly from thin air, a Wizard appeared swathed in white robes. His eyes were a blood red, his hair matching the color of his clothes.

"James!"

Sirius skidded beside him, shielding a yellow tinted jet of light.

Another Wizard had appeared out of thin air.

He was identical to the first.

Stepping through the debris, both of the attackers moved to be beside one another, blocking the path which led deeper into the bank.

"Now that I think about it, maybe twins aren't my favourite thing" Sirius grinned, but stayed focused on the silent wizards.

"Surrender your wands and come quietly" as the senior Auror, Frank was the one who addressed them, giving them a final chance to come in quietly.

More Auror's were coming into the large space, each fanning out into a semi-circle. Every wand was pointed at the two hostile wizards.

As one they spoke.

"We have copied his eyes, we have copied his soul, we have taken his magic, and taken our toll"

Two shields flashed into existence, completely blanketing the front of the twins.

"We will not kill, our master commands it"

Then their wands started moving, each in unison with the other.

Spell fire rocketed towards them from the Aurors, each not trying to pull any punches.

The battle had begun.

* * *

It was just as beautiful as he remembered it. Not that he had used it excessively during the war. But the steel glinted softly from his wand light. Each rune and symbol carved expertly up the length of the blade.

The small gem in the handle glinting with a contained power. Power so fearsome, even the Goblins would rather lock it away than have used it against the Wizards in their many rebellions.

One of the only magical monstrosities that existed in a world of miracle and wonder.

A blade lost to history and then to legend. Then to myth, and folklore. Within an erratic chain of events, most merely knew about it as 'the sword which was pulled from stone'. It was a remnant of an era forgotten even to those that still remained in secrecy.

The lightning sword.

Excalibur.

"I have need of you, Blade of Storms. The envoy of thunder" Harry approached the dias which hosted the sword.

A small shaft of light highlighted the sword in the small room. Without any other influence, it was truly alone among all the darkness.

"You do not belong here"

Harry placed one foot upon the dias, and with a grab and tug, pure lightning poured through his body.

This would take only a moment to get used to.

* * *

Twin blasting curses rocketed past James, striking two wizards and sending them right into a wall of the main lobby.

With a startled yelp, James was tugged behind a fallen desk.

Sirius was crouched beside him, a wild look in his eyes. His black hair was sweaty from all the magical exertion. It merely added to his wildness.

"Powerful bastards, ain't they Prongs?"

"...You alright Padfoot?" James replied, peaking around the desk to see the spherical shields that protected the twin attackers light up under the concentrated spell fire. Tough shields.

"I'm bloody fine. What I don't understand is why these two" he gestured his wand in the direction of the twins, "are just standing there"

Both of the Aurors jumped slightly as a large figure landed next to them covered in soot and dust. The man blew some of it from his face and brushed his hair back, sitting up next to James. A cloud of ash fell from his hair.

"James, Sirius" Frank Longbottom peaked around the corner of the desk, checking on the other Aurors in the room.

"Frank" Sirius nodded, standing and firing off three spells.

A jet of red light flashed above them.

"Idiot" Frank muttered, letting the fast asleep Sirius collapse. James didn't bother to catch him either. This had been the fifth time Sirius had been rendered unconscious.

"So what are they guarding?" Frank idly cast the enervate spell, and Sirius snapped up like a zombie.

While no one had been able to get any kind of contact from the two defensively placed wizards, the Auror's did in fact have brains in their heads. It was obvious that they were stalling for time. For who or what, none of them knew.

But maybe someone else did.

James looked around.

There.

He too cast the enervate spell, but not at Sirius.

A Goblin a few feet away twisted up like he was on fire.

"Get down!" James snapped at the startled bank teller.

After a few seconds of fully comprehending the battle that was going on around him, the Goblin dashed over to their improvised cover.

"Bloody wizards took your time" the goblin snarled, kneeling behind the cover like James had.

"You're welcome" Frank replied dryly, blindly casting some spells around the desk.

"More back up" Sirius pointed towards the entrance of the bank, "...ah shit. More Unspeakables"

Indeed there were. Between the twelve new Aurors that entered the battle, at least four individuals were swathed in deep grey and black robes.

James refocused on the Goblin, snapping a finger in the bankers face, "hey. Why are the two of them just fighting, what's the motive?"

The goblin took a few seconds, and James nearly zoned out to the sounds of magic and yells which had encapsulated the room.

"There's three. They all look the same… I suspect that these two are copies, created to guard the third. The thief" the Goblin rasped, obviously not pleased with the information he had disclosed.

"Three? Copies?" Sirius failed to look interested, copying Frank's method of attack and launching spells blindly, "how'd you know?"

The goblin snarled, "I saw it happen, idiot Wizard! The third… he apparated past the fighting, let the copies clean up the rest of us"

"Apparated? In Gringotts? You're joking" Frank huffed.

"I know what I saw!"

"...how do you know they're copies?" James asked, his attention focused on the Goblin.

The bank teller looked annoyed for a few moments, then frustrated, and then finally resigned. Taking a peek above the defense, the Goblin studied the attackers for a few moments.

"When I first saw them appear, I thought they were just glamored, to appear all the same in order to hide identities-"

A huge bang echoed in the room, and an Unspeakable was sent flying past them. The fighting lulled into silence for a moment. Not a word was said.

And then it all came rushing back.

"But I recognise the magic, I'm sure of it now! It is Goblin magic! Goblin forged! The user is nothing but a thief!" he had spat the last word, his tone turning more and more venomous by the word.

James would have had time to process that, but Frank's cry of "incoming!" took his attention almost instantly.

A very powerful blasting curse slammed into their cover, tearing in into tiny shreds of wood. Each of the individuals behind it were scattered to the far corners of the room.

The space spun in James's vision until eventually, he landed on his side somewhere, his head smacking to the floor.

Sweet Merlin that was painful!

Not to mention the ringing noise in his head.

Pulling himself up and behind the closest thing he could find, James gave himself what felt like hours to recuperate.

Something was leaking from his head.

A head of shaggy black hair appeared his vision, his eyes still focusing.

"-ames! James!" Sirius finally swum back into focus.

With a snap of clarity, the room came back into clarity, the battle still on going.

"Merlin's balls your banged up!" Sirius tried and failed to inject humour into his tone, and as the Potter patriarch was about to tell him as such, the battle changed.

A scream was let out, followed by a spell far more prominent than anything else previously used.

The jet of green struck one of the twins. James watched it happen in what felt like slow motion.

A killing curse.

The figure that was hit…

He stumbled, then vanished.

In his place, floating where he stood, was a small blue ball.

Without further hesitation, the ball zipped away, flying through the air and down the hallway where the third had supposedly gone. The original.

The thief.

In an instant, James was moving. Jumping over desks and avoiding wild spell fire, he was followed closely by his partner Sirius, who had obviously guessed his intent. The Potter patriarch was gunning right for the hallway leading into the depths of the bank.

A literal torrent of spellfire erupted in their direction, practically blanketing the sky. A look towards the remaining 'twin' confirmed that it had all its attention on the two wizards.

"Over here you miserable sod!" the twin was forced to turn and shield itself from Frank Longbottom, offensive spell after offensive spell blanketing the room.

Other Auror's had seen what James was doing, running for the lower depths, and giving their comrade in arms a chance, began to push out as much magic as possible at their opponent.

The creation's eyes went wild, and James had a split second to see the potent orange spell hit the ceiling.

'It's trying to collapse the hallway!'

"Quickly Sirius!" James roared, picking up speed even as the creation vanished under the spell fire, finally succumbing to the onslaught of magic.

James and Sirius managed to duck under the archway, even as the first few stones began to fall. A small blue ball zipped passed them.

"Potter!" that was Frank.

The arch collapsed, burying the entrance to the ceiling.

Taking a moment to catch their breaths, to recuperate, James idly studied the debris.

"You see it too?"

Sirius grunted in affirmation, "all this bloody strange magic… something tells me it won't take a simple repair charm or reconstruction spells to get through this"

James was referring to the debris, and how a small layer of orange energy had encased the disaster. No doubt that the other Aurors and unspeakables were trying to find a way through now.

"Something tells me that we're not going to have the luxury of waiting for back up" James groaned, standing up and brushing off his pants and shirt.

"You know mate, I think this look works for you" Sirius also stood, giving James a cheeky smile, "ragged hair, busted glasses, torn sleeve, bleeding leg" Sirius created a square with his fingers, peeking through it, "adds to your dashing personality"

"Git" James grinned, "we're going into this without back up"

"Just like the good old days then?" Sirius also grinned, stepping up beside James and looking down the hallway. Only ominous darkness greeted them.

"Just like the good old days" James nodded, his face becoming serious, his wand aimed and ready.

The best friends began to delve into the abyss that was Gringotts.

They had a thief to find.

* * *

It was only a matter of time now. The sword was a masterpiece. A work of power and beauty, one that had saved Harry's life on multiple occasions during the war.

He remembered lending it to one Neville Longbottom during the final assault on the ministry.

But with it in his hands now, idly walking through the halls of Gringotts, Harry felt like he could never let it go again.

It was bound to the book.

Again.

Not as a restricted item however, but as a means of storage. Unknown to those that fought Harry, not _every_ artifact or weapon required the book to be open.

The key difference between those that required their page in the Sacclarius to be displayed and those that didn't was the return of the item.

Harry could simply snap the book shut, and the item would return to its home. Same as if he were to turn a page.

But an item such as the sword was merely being stored in the book.

He could take it out, and leave it out of its confines, meaning it could be stolen. Although it also meant he could utilise other items from the book while wielding Excalibur.

It was a tricky situation, deciding which items should be bound or contained.

Eventually, it came down to a mere question of what was more important. Harry would forever use the more magically powerful items without binding them. There were of course some exceptions to this rule.

But now is not the time to consider such rules and limitations of the Sacclarius, because Harry needed to restore a personal favourite of his.

The second Imitator hurtled around a bend up ahead. Even in the dreary torch light, Harry was capable of catching it.

Such useful creations.

The memories of his creation were added to his consciousness. The first had fallen to an errant killing curse, probably from a rookie or a death eater planted within the department.

There was no way of knowing, but at least he did know that his copies had kept everyone out.

Well, almost everyone.

James Potter and Sirius Black, once again lapping at his boot trails.

"I always wondered who gave me my persistent streak... " Harry smiled to himself absently, recalling how James was stuck behind the cave in.

He was trapped down here with him.

Sure there were Goblins still roaming the corridors searching for him, but maybe now was a time to motivate his father.

He could escape now, and both Potter and Black wouldn't find him, and report as such to whoever was handling this 'situation'.

Or.

Harry could have a bit of fun.

Sometimes it could be very exciting to play the villain. Or anti-hero. Both were equally exhilarating.

* * *

"Well, you certainly took your time" their suspect stepped into sight, blocking both spells that were sent at him.

Not with a wand.

He deflected them with the now glowing sword in his hand. A simple swing and both stunners had been harmlessly splashed against the walls.

"Ah, the dynamic duo themselves" the white haired man was dressed like the other two. Like the identical copies. However he spoke, so unless this was some elaborate ruse (something James wouldn't put past this guy), then this was the original.

"I'd ask you to surrender, but we both know what you'd say to that" Sirius let a layer of frost coat his tone, but James knew he was on edge.

"And I'd ask you if we could have a chat" James could feel the smile under the bandana, "what would you say about that?"

"I'd say you're-"

"Not you, Sirius Black" the man's red eyes flickered for a moment towards Sirius before they settled on James, "I'd be willing to wager a hefty sum that James Potter has a few questions" the man brandished the sword idly, inspecting it.

His eyes came back to James.

"It's just us after all…"

"You can't be serious" the Lord of the Black family growled, turning to look at his best friend, who was obviously in deep thought.

No one made the obvious joke.

"James!"

The Potter turned a sad gaze to his friend, looking at him with some semblance of shame.

"I have to know Sirius" he lowered his wand, but kept it at his side, "I have questions for you… ones that have been bugging me for awhile"

The man tilted his head, stabbing the sword into the stone floor and leaning on it, casually.

"Fire away, Mr. Potter"

"Are you a Potter?"

The "yes" came without hesitation or emotion.

James felt his world sink, yet he continued to swim deeper, "how closely are we related?"

The man seemed to ponder for a few seconds, mulling over his answer. Eventually, he settled on, "far closer than you'd be comfortable with"

"Why are you using a Sacclarius?" James almost whispered, trying to keep the floor beneath him.

His supposed relative brought the war machine into existence, idly flipping through the pages without concern.

" _Because,_ my fellow Potter, we are at war again. You might be more content with keeping your head buried in the ground, but I am preparing myself for the coming fire" he turned his head and attention to the book, inspecting it.

"Do you honestly believe that the Death Eater attack was a random coincidence? That it was merely a random gathering of some very despicable people? Surely you've noticed the disappearances"

James said nothing.

"Oh, you have? That's good. One step closer to the sunlight" his eyes danced with mirth, "now it's in no way your fault that both yourself and by extension the ministry of magic are woefully unprepared to take on Lord Voldemort once more" both shivered at the name, "and rest assured, he is far from dead…"

The sword came from the ground, "but nevertheless, even in times of peace one must be prepared to shed blood"

"Who the bloody hell are you?" Sirius asked honestly, his jaw slack and gaze confused. As if he couldn't comprehend the person before him.

"A man who has lost his way. I've strayed far from home, but rest assured I come with the best intentions"

James felt his back stiffen, "the road to hell is paved with good intentions"

That almost seemed to anger the man, if the flash in his eyes was anything to go by. His grip had also tightened on the sword.

"And you believe in hell, Wizard?"

"No. Merely that sometimes the ends do not justify the means"

"You believe that you are able to judge my methods? That my means are inconsequential to my goal" James frowned now.

"That's not what I said"

"But you mean it. You feel as if I have done things that are irredeemable for the construction of the bigger picture? That evil has no place in the greater good?"

"You do not have to kill, to prevent war"

James felt a spike of magic come from the man, even as the sword was raised and pointed at him.

"You know nothing of the war I aim to prevent, James Potter"

A blue glow covered the blade.

"Enough chit-chat" Sirius grinned.

"I agree"

* * *

Frank Longbottom was the first to come charging around the corridor. He saw James first, legs bent at strange angles, with a blank look across his face.

Sirius had left a trail of blood crawling towards James.

Frank and Abbott assumed the worst when they saw the DMLE's most infamous members battered and bleeding on the floor.

Especially James.

"Potter!" Frank had barked, running towards the fallen man who was propped against the wall. Kneeling in front of him, Frank observed the man, searching for any sign of curse work or spells. Even life.

James seemed either dead or petrified.

"We need healers!" Frank practically screamed behind him, looking away even as commotion and orders were barked.

"Stay with me Sirius" he could hear Abbott say, even as the man began a basic medical run down of the bleeding Auror.

"James! James! Damn it man!" Frank cursed, snapping his fingers in front of the blank eyed man.

"Not dead"

Sirius was the one who had spoken, his face contorted in pain, his voice a whisper of torment and agony.

"Mungo's" was all the man said, before he closed his eyes.

"I need hospital portkeys! Stat!" Frank roared into the fray, checking on James with a few rudimentary diagnostic spells.

Other men and women approached them, each grabbing James and Sirius. Eventually, they snapped or popped away, taken to the hospital for intensive care.

Frank stood up from the ground, rubbing his eyes with his hand.

"Hey boss"

"What?" Frank growled, not in the mood for questions right now.

"We uh, we found what our suspect was looking for, we think"

"Think, or know Harold? Because one of those options I do not give a damn about" Frank snapped, wanting to be anywhere but here.

"Moody's casing it right now, something about a melted vault door… a vault that technically doesn't exist"

Frank frowned.

...this was something. And not something insignificant or small, something of consideration.

"Show me"

"Right this way boss"

* * *

Daphne Greengrass had accompanied her parents and little sister to the Malfoy's little event. Although the word little was a ludicrous way of describing the amount of money that Lucius Malfoy would throw around to entertain guests.

A way of reminding all in attendance who was in control.

But Daphne was of a particular mindset that money would never equate to power. It was for the very same track of thinking that she agreed with the sentiment that Lucius had merely been a gold supply during the war.

Nothing more.

Maybe less.

Who knew?

"It is a shame that Tracey couldn't be here" Pansy Parkinson had attached herself to the gathering of children as all their parents mingled on the main floor.

Daphne had been studying the wide open area, taking in the portraits, art, decorations, and even the smooth carvings on the marble pillars that held up the roof.

Idly she was reminded that if it was in the Malfoy household, it was valuable.

"I'd agree, she really knows how to make such events more… diverse"

Pansy didn't react, but Daphne spun to face down the calm gaze of Theodore Nott. She knew what he was alluding to. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

Her blood purity.

And the only reason she held her tongue was because she knew that the boy didn't believe it.

He had an image to maintain, especially with who his Father was.

Pureblood politics find their way even into the smallest of cracks and crevices. Much to the chagrin of all Pureblood children, not only were they expected to take up the mantles of their parents, but to become proficient with as little assistance as possible.

For people such as the Malfoy's, Greengrasses, Black's and other old families, this came naturally. But the family of Goyle?

Being politically savvy is also an acquired skill.

Theodore Nott's father was a known Blood purist. He had published papers, speeches and ideology. The whole nine yards. Was it any surprise that such a man would cast an incredibly large shadow? A shadow that his son would have to fulfill one day.

With the drone of noise created by the other adults in the room, Daphne looked to swing the conversation in other directions.

She knew Theo would appreciate it as well. He never liked keeping up appearances, but would do so if needed.

"Has anyone seen Malfoy?"

"Only a moment. He greeted me then vanished" Blaise Zabini added, giving the room a glance over.

"Bloody rude if you ask me" Goyle mumbled, and Crabbe merely grunted in agreement.

"I believe I saw him enter his personal study"

The group turned to look at the new voice.

Marcus Flint. An older student at Hogwarts, one of the few that wasn't as heavily tied to the Malfoy family as others, but still attended their events.

"Something about a special guest arriving later tonight"

Flint took a sip from his white glass. Even dressed in his immaculate robes, Daphne was frustrated by his leering.

Tracey often remarked that he had a face only a mother could love.

"I'll go and retrieve our wayward host" Daphne decided, breaking out of the small group and walking towards Draco's study. It was a few halls down, if her memory served correct, and she was sure that even if Lucius bumped into her in the hallways he would appreciate her retrieving his son.

It was better than letting Flint undress her with his eyes.

* * *

"Draco?"

The son of Lucius Malfoy turned his head ever so slightly to observe who was speaking to him.

"Yes, Greengrass?"

Daphne Greengrass was wearing a dress that by any wizarding standard was considered _exotic_.

But Draco Malfoy, the spymaster, not the simpering young fool, had spent enough time around muggles during the war. Even in dreary conditions he had heard stories of wives, girlfriends and significant others wearing such clothing. Of course, her dress wasn't entirely without an influence of the wizarding culture. However, Draco did have an eye for the origin.

His eyes glanced up to Daphne, who had said something to him but he had failed to respond.

"You look beautiful tonight, Daphne" Draco settled with, a small smile flickering onto his face as he noticed the color appear in her cheeks.

"And _you_ are avoiding my question"

Draco turned fully to face her, leaving the glass he held in his left hand off to the side.

"I suppose I am"

He glanced quickly over her shoulder and noted that she had come alone to speak with him. No one stood in the door behind her or the hallway that preceded it.

Daphne grinned at him, letting a musical note of laughter out before shaking her head at him, "the party isn't in here Draco, what are you-?"

The abrupt green flames that filled the fire pit behind them startled the girl, who brought a hand to her chest. Her other hand had gone for her wand.

A singular figure emerged.

Bright green eyes, ones of venom and hatred, surveyed the room. They settled on Daphne momentarily, before shifting questioningly to the Malfoy.

"I wasn't expecting company, Draco"

Ares Flamel stood there, calm and proud. His clothes were still black as night. Not because he prefered the color, but because it had more 'tactical' applications.

"Ares" Draco nodded, "this is-"

"Daphne Greengrass"

The girl had stowed her wand and had her full attention aimed at Ares.

"A pleasure," the tall boy said, moving towards Draco's desk, inspecting papers and items that Daphne had not noticed before.

He had already dismissed her and of any importance.

Draco took the hint, moving towards the girl, ready to escort her out of the study.

"And your name?"

Daphne didn't notice the sudden stiffness in Draco's stance, nor did she notice how his eyes flickered ever so slightly to the left, like he wished to observe Ares's reaction. But the boy did not turn. He merely waited for his Captain's response.

"Ares Flamel, Miss Greengrass. If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to borrow your gracious host for a short time"

Under that poisonous green gaze, Daphne felt… small. Insignificant. Irrelevant. She didn't know it yet, but she felt just like many of her Slytherin compatriots would when they were to interact with the Flamel heir.

"Of course" her fear peaked, and despite herself, the Greengrass heir gave a polite curtsy. She wasn't even able to relish the slight stumble that Malfoy gave to her action.

He wasn't used to her being _polite_ in any specific manor. Especially to those of the same age group.

"Thank you" Ares turned away and Malfoy walked to the door, stepping alongside the frame and gesturing out to the hallway.

As Daphne finally turned away from the Flamel, her eyes met with Draco.

Fear, and worry.

Those were the only words she could use to describe the look in those grey pupils.

The door snapped shut behind her.

Daphne took an about face and walked briskly back to the party. People were to be informed of what just happened.

Questions would be asked.

When did the Flamel's announce an Heir? Was this some kind of ruse? How did Draco Malfoy already know the mysterious Ares Flamel?

"There you are Daphne!"

The Greengrass moved back into the swing of conversation.

* * *

Rose Potter smiled back at her family sadly, waving as the Hogwarts Express began to pull away from the station.

James still had his crutches, and Sirius looked ready to support the man in case he fell over, but all of them were giving genuine smiles. Her dad would be just fine. Saint Mungo's wasn't considered a world renowned Wizarding medical clinic for nothing.

Sirius jogged up the length of the track, still smiling at her the entire time, waving ecstatically.

As the Express got faster and faster, eventually he shifted into a dog. Rose could tell he was barking at her and her smile grew fonder.

In a blur of motion, a large Stag dashed past her Dogfather.

Prongs.

Her father was fine.

In a few meters, there was no more track, and the Stag and Dog were forced to stop, watching.

Eventually the platform gave away, and her father vanished into the peripheral. The start of the Hogwarts journey was signalled by Ron's exclamation for 'exploding snap!'

Rose just turned away from the window, snorted at her friend's ridiculous smile, and asked to be dealt in.

Hermione would probably be joining them in a few moments. She had always preferred to change into her school robes far earlier than most others did.

* * *

Said Granger had just emerged from one of the bathroom cubicles on the express. A quick glance to the left showed the hallway clear, a glance to the right showed….

Oh god.

The golden hair of Draco Malfoy almost seemed to proceed the bigot, but his cool gaze was unmistakable, even if his eyes were focused on the floor. It didn't seem like he was going to be stepping into any of the compartments.

He wasn't accompanied by any of his goons either… how strange.

But he was approaching fast, his pace hurried.

For a moment Hermione honestly contemplated stepping into the bathroom toilet again, but deciding to be the bigger person she aimed to face the 'pompous git' head on.

Her Cabin that was shared with Rose was just past Malfoy.

They were only a few feet away from one another.

Draco looked up for a moment, obviously lost in thought and just spoke on reflex.

"Granger" he nodded, stepping past her and continuing down the train. Hermione had to honestly stop moving.

What? Not a peep?

When did he call her just _Granger_?

'Mudblood? Blood filth? Not even a light hex?'

The golden head of hair stopped outside of a door only a few further down. Malfoy almost seemed… worried.

He knocked once on the door. A single rap, loud and proud, even if his expression didn't show such emotion.

"Where have you been?" was all Hermione heard him hiss before he stepped into the compartment. The door slammed shut behind him.

Hermione blinked once.

Then twice.

There was no way in magical hell that _that_ was Draco Malfoy, pureblood ponce. She turned away, walking towards the cabin where she could hear Ron and Rose playing exploding snap.

What would they be think about this?

* * *

 **What do you all think about this? I hope you enjoyed. So some more questions to be asked, enough content to hopefully tide you over until the next chapter. Best of wishes.**

 **Have a nice day!**

 **-Freedom**


	3. Chapter 3

**Before we begin, I'd like to say thank you to everyone who was motivated enough to enform me either by review or by message that this story did infact entertain them.**

 **Reviews both positive and negative are always welcome. No self respecting author would say their work was perfect, in fact, I'm one to believe that it is our flaws that define us.**

 **That being said, I hope you all enjoy the next chapter for 'I'm Back'**

 **-Best Regards, Freedom**

* * *

"You're positive it was him?" Rose replied, just as confused as Hermione was.

"Without a doubt" Hermione nodded as she spoke, "while it was a relief, you also agree that it's strange?"

"For the prat to be acting that way, yeah" Ron nodded, studying the sandwich his mother had packed him as if it was considering taking a bite from him.

"Now he's having some secret meeting" Hermione grumbled, "I know it shouldn't bother me that much, because at least he didn't find the need to harrass me again, but Draco Malfoy doesn't change so easily"

"Yeah" Rose nodded, "he's been weird these last months though, he found me in a hallway at hogwarts and asked me the strangest question, about-"

"Hang on" Ron cut in, tossing his sandwich aside, " _secret meeting?_ " he brought back Hermione's words.

Rose blinked, having completely skipped over her friend saying that.

Hermione took a few seconds, then sighed.

"I checked the door. Silencing charms. Very strong ones too. It's not locked but whoever is in there doesn't want to be heard"

Rose sat up straighter, "do you think he… do you think he's working for Vol-"

"Don't!" Ron groaned, "don't say it. Please"

Rose huffed, annoyed that her friends refused to take her stance on the Dark Lord's name, but let it go for now.

"Any other time I would say no. Draco isn't the kind of person to grovel beneath the Dark Lord"

"Have you met his Dad?" Ron asked incredulously.

"Maybe it's in the works, but he's a kid right now! His loyalties can't have already been decided" Hermione bit back.

"He's been off for a few months, we've all noticed it" Rose took charge, "we know that something's up and if it concerns Malfoy" she sighed, "it probably isn't good news"

"You can't prove-"

"The diary Hermione. We all know who gave it to Ginny" Rose pointed out, trying to remain calm.

The blonde prick always rubbed her the wrong way. It was like every Malfoy that ever existed was excellent at getting under someone's skin. Especially if they didn't get their way.

"Well, I say we investigate" Ron stood up, going for his trunk.

"How?" Hermione wondered, "firstly we can't just listen in through the door, the silencing charms remember?"

Ron pulled out a line of string, with a conical part on one end. He gave both girls a big grin.

Hermione eyed it warily.

"Do I even want to know?"

"Prototype extendable ears" he grinned handing it to Rose, "Fred and George let me use it. Stick it under a door, over a wall or a hole in a wall and just listen in"

"You're testing your brothers inventions?" Hermione summarised.

"Pretty much"

"Well you still need to find a way to hide in the corridor" Granger pointed out, to which both Ron and Rose looked at one another.

"Cloak" they both said, smiling at Hermione.

Hermione groaned.

* * *

"And you expect that? You planned that? The Goblins won't leave you alone Harry, you bloody stole from them! The Ministry will get involved, and you already have a price on your head! It doesn't matter what it is that you stole anymore!" Draco fumed, his eyes wide at what his Captain had just told him.

"It does matter" Harry muttered, turning another page in the book he was reading, "and it's Ares. Please try, Draco"

The Malfoy had the decency to blush, but his frustration soon took hold again, "how does it not matter? You have stolen an _ancient magical artifact_! A powerful one too! They will scour the globe looking for-"

The book snapped closed, green eyes now glaring towards him.

"Did you pay attention at all in school? Not even a passing word or sentence was able to remain in your head?" Harry sat forward, bringing his face closer to Draco, "if you had, then you'd know what this is"

In a flash of light the sword appeared across Harry's lap, it's blue glow muted slightly but still present.

Draco swallowed slightly, looking down at Excalibur, the mighty sword forged by Merlin himself.

"I know what it-"

"No you don't!" Harry snapped, "because if you _did_ , you'd _know_ that possessing it means nothing" he moved away from Draco, reclining back into the seat and sighing.

"History would tell you slander and lies. When the sword was given to Arthur, given to man, it would create an imbalance between all the races. While Wizard kind was treated harshly by mankind at the time, the atrocities committed against the other races were far worse"

Draco merely listened. He felt zero need to speak or even to refute anything that Harry was saying.

"So Humanity had their sword taken from them. And in order to appease the many other races, it was destroyed by the Goblins" Harry cocked his head sideways, his voice taking a curious tenor, "so why has the blade been sitting in Gringotts all these years?"

Harry grew angry now, but his rage was aimed at the sword, "because the race of Goblins are everything they despise, their word is nothing but a breath of utter hypocrisy. They promise punishment and death for those that steal from them… yet if you venture low enough into the depths of that _bank_ … if you tread into the dark… Draco, entire cultures have been swallowed by their greed"

Silence took hold of the cabin. Harry let out a soft sigh. "I'm sorry, but I recall the first time I found the sword. I also recall what I found below… in the depths"

Draco just nodded.

Eventually the Malfoy heir barked out a laugh, smiling despite the somber mood that Harry had let into the room.

The Potter gave him a curious look. The sword vanished from his lap, leaving him with just a book.

"I just find it amusing that people we herald as the greatest handlers of money happen to be light fingered… what a sad revelation"

Harry smiled, having already dealt with that understanding a lifetime ago.

"But please, explain. Why won't they inform anyone of what you stole? They won't let it go that easily" Draco caught the blankness on Harry's face, "...will they?"

Harry opened his book again.

"Here's what's going to happen" Harry thumbed a page, talking candidly to Draco, "The ministry will speak with the Goblins about any stolen items, and the Goblins will admit to nothing. They will stone wall any investigation into the chamber or any of the lower floors"

Another page was turned.

"Naturally, this will intrigue many of the more curious members of the DMLE, maybe even a few of the more powerful figures in the ministry. Those under the control of Voldemort already know that Gringotts holds far more than the Goblins are willing to tell, and will see this as an excuse to explore, maybe even _acquire_..."

Harry paused, mumbling a phrase off of the book in front of him. The tips of his fingers glowed before darkening.

"And?" Draco was far beyond interested.

"And of course they will prepare an investigation, they will green light any operation to find what's got the Goblins on edge" Harry remarked flippantly, "and Amelia Bones will be sitting in her office, ready to uncover the horrible truth"

Harry closed his eyes, smiling.

"Then their castle will crumble"

* * *

"You'll have to repeat that minister, I'm not quite sure I heard you correctly" Amelia Bones had her eyes closed, not bothering to look upon the faces of those in her room.

Frank Longbottom and James Potter were in her office ready to proceed with the investigation.

Frank and a team of Aurors had been inspecting the location where their number one undesirable had been. The hidden vault.

The one that didn't appear on any of the official holdings list. According to Gringotts, that vault didn't even exist, as did whatever had been inside of it.

That got the members of law enforcement thinking, and they didn't like what they concluded with.

Each of them had a rough understanding of why one would not want something to be found. In the case of Gringotts, James, Frank and Amelia all believed that the Bank had something they were not supposed to.

This was further confirmed when the Gringotts Director, Ragnok, had demanded they cease further inspection of that floor. Each Auror had been escorted out under Goblin guard.

That told Amelia far more then the Goblins obviously intended.

The Goblin nation had a need for privacy that had been established during the rebellions. They preferred to govern themselves, deal with themselves. The masters of their ship, so to speak. Wizard kind eventually respected that, and when the rebellions ended, many were just glad that the fighting was over. No one thought to demand governmental evaluations of one another. Everyone prefered to let the other do their own thing. But the haste to shut down any such study of the incident that had occured at Gringotts?

There was more down there.

More things, and vaults, and places that were not supposed to exist.

They had things they were not supposed to have.

And so Amelia had gone through the proper channels, all the legal methods that any self respecting officer of the law would utilise...

...only at the last minute to have Cornelius Fudge, the Head Unspeakable, and two men she did not recognise come into her office, and kill her investigation.

"You will not be sending Auror's into the bank" Fudge spoke calmly for once as he reiterated his point. There still was fear within his tone though, something that Amelia noticed. Whoever these men were, they had scared Cornelius Fudge enough to grow a backbone and face down one of the more rambunctious members of his government. A man that hated conflict, who would only go to bat when he absolutely had to.

Apparently now was crucial.

Now, he _had_ to.

James and Frank were in a stunned silence, something that would only hold their mouths shut for a few moments.

Amelia still had control of her tongue.

"Cornelius, they are hiding something! Something that a rogue wizard was willing to blast through some of our best men and women, all the bank defenses, and Goblin Security!" she stood up from her chair, "he didn't steal even a Galleon, but my gut tells me he stole something far-"

"Perhaps you shouldn't be listening to your gut then" one of the unknown men stated blandly.

"And who are you?"

It seemed that Frank was the first one out of his induced silence.

"Joseph Hargreave, Security Director of the International Confederation of Wizards" he looked to Frank, "my office will be working alongside your Department of Mysteries in order to find a _beneficial_ solution to the break in"

"What's got the ICW so interested in a bank robbery" James didn't move, but his body was tense. His hand was itching for his wand.

This was the head of what essentially equated to Wizard Spies. People who you did not cross lightly, nor did you question their involvement.

Hargreave also had a reputation of pushing things under the rug. Until now, everyone in the room was unaware of what he even looked like.

Long black hair, small spectacles which covered beedy blue eyes. His face was angular, almost elvish in a way. He was an average height, but his presence was felt. A serious man, in seriously dark clothing.

"Mister Cain" Hargreave looked to the Head unspeakable, casually announcing his name to those in the room.

"It is a delicate situation" the unspeakable mumbled, but gave no reaction to his identity being released "an item was being held in the vault on request of the Department of Mysteries"

Hargreave clasped his hands behind his back, stepping abruptly into the conversation before Amelia could talk.

"This will not be reported in the paper. An amount of twenty thousand Galleons will have been stolen, the criminal is still at large. The criminal will be identified by several eyewitnesses as to having ties with the Dark Lord"

Frank snorted, "and the unofficial story?"

Hargreave narrowed his eyes at the Longbottom, "that will be the _only_ story"

Amelia found herself looking at the final man that had approached her desk, the one who had practically burst into her office.

He wore a muggle suit.

Dark shades.

He had a shaved head with shaved markings decorating the circumference of his face. Ever so slightly his head tilted towards her, telling her that he was looking back.

'What the fuck have we stumbled upon' Amelia thought, sitting back down in her chair.

"Fine. I'll rescind any of the evidence and have it transferred to your people. I know a cover up when I see it"

"Your orders are unnecessary Madame Bones, we have already seized the evidence" Hargreave was already turning to leave, "a wonderful day to you three"

His voice was frigid and cold, it practically hung in the air even after he and his entourage had left.

"Boss, what the hell just happened?" Frank muttered towards her.

"I honestly couldn't tell you Frank. But our next order of business" she reached into a drawer, fishing out a bottle of Firewhisky, "should be less intensive"

James was still staring at the door where the men had left.

He was deep in thought.

* * *

"Because" Harry twisted in his seat, lying down comfortably with a conjured pillow behind his head, "the Goblins are not the only ones who have items that don't belong to them. Powerful people will come knocking, and shut everything down. Anything involved with the case they are building will be sucked away into a black hole, never to be seen again"

Draco finally understood the safety Harry had given himself.

Not only did the Goblins have items, magical trinkets or even devices that belonged to others, so to did the Wizards.

If the wizards came knocking on the Goblins doors, demanding their things back, then the Goblins would do the exact same thing.

Both parties were guilty.

Matters had to be sorted quietly, meaning that while Harry would not be hunted by those that worked in the light, those of the Shadows would be gunning for his neck.

"Bloody hell" Draco whispered, "isn't this worse? The underbelly of the wizarding world will be searching for you Har-" green eyes opened to stare at him, "Ares" Draco corrected.

"This is not a good thing"

Harry yawned, rolling over, "think of it as a challenge"

Draco nearly choked, a hundred different idea's going through his head as to why that particular justification for his actions was so innately stupid.

The corner of his senses were tickled ever so slightly.

Harry sat up and looked at the door.

* * *

While all three of them could fit under the cloak, the hallway wasn't large enough for all three of them to not block anyone who was passing by.

As the compartment Draco entered was near the bathroom, many of the students were exiting the stalls and returning to their own cabins after changing.

They weren't willing to risk discovery, especially since it would mean someone bumping into them and finding out about the cloak.

So Rose had gone alone.

She crept up to the door, as quiet as possible.

Hermione was right, there was no sound being given off from within, a dead silence. It was definitely magic, Rose could feel the spell.

The compartment door wasn't completely sealed on the bottom, so taking the string (a string which did not have an ear attached to it), Rose carefully slid it under the door.

The conversation sounded underwater, but she could hear it.

" _...are not the only ones who…. don't belong to them. Powerful... knocking…. shut everything down… involved with the case they are building... sucked away... never to be seen again…"_

That wasn't Malfoy's voice.

But she recognised it.

She could almost picture those poison green eyes, the handsome face and terrifying presence.

She slid the string further, pushing on the edge of the spell.

" _Bloody hell"_

The conversation had become clearer. She could definitely tell that Malfoy was also in the cabin.

" _Isn't this worse? The underbelly of the wizarding world will be searching for you Har-"_

There was a deafening pause within the room.

Rose knew that kind of silence.

Tense with only the sound of someone's feet shuffling. Definitely Malfoy's feet. Rose honestly wished he had kept talking but she understood in a way as to why he had shut up. Draco had almost said something he shouldn't have.

" _Ares, this is not a good thing"_ Draco amended as he continued to speak, only getting a yawn in response.

Movement out of the corner of her eye distracted Rose, and she pushed up against the door to avoid coming into contact with two advancing students.

Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass.

Both were animatedly chatting with one another.

Unknowingly though, Rose had also pushed the rope through an undetected layer of protection, alerting the spell caster that someone had been listening in on his conversation.

* * *

"Draco"

The Malfoy heir stopped speaking, even as Harry sat up and gazed at the door.

"I find myself in need of silence. I have some sensitive things to review. You'll be briefed once I can determine their authenticity. But for now, find another cabin"

Draco didn't hesitate, he just stood, nodded and exited the compartment.

Before he could close the door, he was immediately accosted by Daphne and Tracey. His speed meaning he had practically fallen into them.

The door remained open for a few moments.

Green met a soft blue.

Daphne Greengrass looked directly at Harry, her eyes snapping to Draco then back to him. She was evaluating their relationship. It was obvious that she had some kind of inkling as to where Harry stood in regard to the Malfoy, but she was assuredly having a hard time understanding it.

She could tell that Draco and his family were far wealthier than he was, and Malfoy's only bent the knee to power.

So what did that mean about Harry?

Harry smiled internally, and after waiting another five seconds, he idly flicked the door closed with a gesture. Daphne's eyes remained on him until the door was closed.

The sounds of Malfoy socializing were cut off as he reapplied the silencing charm.

Removing the chain from his neck, Harry resized his trunk, placing it where he once lay, taking careful time to unlock it and remove the protections on it.

Usually, he would breeze through this, taking as little time as possible. But his guest wouldn't come to her own conclusions if he didn't.

He was trying to tempt her.

After all, he had only left the door open so long as to allow Rose Potter to sneak into the compartment. He knew she couldn't resist, assuming she was just like himself in his younger years. She, like him, probably assumed that the cloak was fool proof.

But Harry could smell better than most.

He could hear better than most.

Within the trunk, he pulled out five books and a piece of paper. While the books were various illegal copies, each centered in dark magic, blood magic or even soul magic, the thing that would get the girls attention was the list. It was one that detailed students of potential, those that he knew from experience in the future were worth the trouble.

The paper wasn't titled or indicated as such, as it was merely just a list of names.

That was how Rose potter would see it. She was free to draw her own conclusions.

Conjuring a muggle pen, Harry idly scanned through the list, crossing off some names in red ink.

He pretended to consider for a few moments.

"Now there's a thought" he smiled, writing out 'Ronald Weasley' as clearly and slowly as he could.

Despite himself, his grin twitched as he heard Rose's soft intake of air.

At this rate, she'd go running to Dumbledore as soon as she arrived at the Castle. She wouldn't even go to the feast, she'd probably just bolt right up the stairs and demand the Gargoyle to step aside.

Putting the paper down, he decided to have some more fun with his 'spy'.

Another gesture and the compartment door was locked.

Harry had decided he'd change into his hogwarts robes.

* * *

Rose knew it was a bad idea, sneaking into the compartment, but she had to know. Draco had been acting weird, sure, but Ares Flamel was giving off a very bad vibe.

A, 'holy shit I'm so fucking evil' kind of vibe.

While Hermione wouldn't use the same language, Rose was sure she would agree.

So when the compartment door was held open for longer than normal, she had to get inside.

Especially after he had just said, " _I find myself in need of silence. I have some sensitive things to review. You'll be briefed once I can determine their authenticity. But for now, find another cabin_ "

It couldn't have been more perfect.

Draco had practically come running out, only to fall over Rose's invisible foot and stumble into Tracey Davis.

Daphne had said a few things before looking into the cabin.

She obviously knew Ares, if her facial expression was anything to go by. But Rose had debated for only a second, deciding to just suddenly step through the doorway, hustling herself into the corner of the room.

Her heart was pounding, and she almost flatlined when Ares casually closed the door. With no wand, just a flick of his hand.

She refused to move a muscle, knowing that if he heard anything she'd be so screwed. Even her breathing was being measured carefully. This was a golden opportunity.

Rose watched his movements carefully. They were methodical and deliberate. Every action was intended.

A small necklace was removed from his neck. With a wandless spell the trunk which hung from it was resized and left upon the opposing bench.

Open.

There were clothes, that was to be expected, but the books and items drew Rose's eye.

She committed a few of the titles to memory, willing to ask Hermione about them-

He drew a paper out, a single piece of parchment that was hidden between his robes. His eyes gave away nothing, but Rose determined it was important.

Shuffling closer slightly, she almost flinched when a pen appeared out of thin air.

Peering around his arm she was able to see the paper. Her blood ran cold.

Names. It was covered in names. Some of them were people she knew.

 _Luna Lovegood._

 _Neville Longbottom._

 _Daphne Greengrass._

 _Theodore Nott._

 _Cedric Diggory._

"Now there's a thought" his voice almost startled her, as she had been mentally trying to tie the people on the list together. What was their importance? Did he even know any of them?

What did it-

She inhaled sharply, quickly looking up to his face for any reaction. The same grin was still plastered across his mouth. Like he was relishing the idea of his new addition.

'Ronald Weasley' now proudly sat at the bottom of the page.

The Potter girl retreated back to the corner of the room, lost in her head as she contemplated what anything she had just witnessed could possibly mean.

'Ron?! What does he want with Ron? Why…' Rose's brain almost shut down as Ares Flamel pulled black robe from off of his body, revealing a black buttoned up shirt and muggle trousers.

The teen began to disconnect each button, slowly taking the shirt off of his torso.

'This is not happening' Rose said to herself, eyes wide behind her glasses as the black clothing fell to the floor.

His back was still to her, and now it was revealed to her.

'What…'

He was covered in a myriad of scars. Faded and dull, but very prominent. The deformities traced down to his waist, and judging by the extensive amount of them, Rose wagered they dipped further.

But there was something off about them. They didn't seem to be random at all. Surgically placed across his upper back, tracing down his spine and spreading across the back of his rib cage.

They seemed intentional, not something from an accident or a magical mishap.

Any further thoughts were squashed as his pants abruptly vanished from his legs, leaving him in black boxers.

Rose maneuvered herself further away, stepping closer to the Cabin door.

'Honestly, what is with all the black' she had to wonder. While yes, in the brief period of time that she had interacted with the teen now stripping in front of her she had concluded he wasn't the happy kind of individual she surrounded herself with, his color scheme still seemed a little excessive.

But she was right.

The scars traveled all the way down to the back of his calves. Every part of his body aside from his neck and face were covered with them.

He had already taken out his hogwarts clothing, slowly pulling it onto his body without any consideration for the poor girl forced to spy on him.

'Just close your eyes' Rose reasoned, but for the life of her couldn't. She just stared, wide and disbelieving as the boy fully clothed himself in the blank Hogwarts clothing.

Now fully dressed, he conjured a small mirror, silently checking himself over.

Rose wanted to snort.

What a pretentious prick. It wasn't like he was good looking or…

'Okay so what if he's good looking, he's still creepy!'

Like lightning his head snapped towards where she stood, his green eyes blazing as they looked directly at her.

'Does… does he know?'

He took a step towards her, his eyes still on her.

At any moment she could stun him, her wand having found itself into her hand without any conscious thought.

And she almost did when he idly swiped his hand at the door, unlocking it.

"What" Ares spoke softly, "are you doing here?"

'HE KNEW!' Rose couldn't find the words, keeping them contained in her head, her thoughts running at a million miles a second.

'He's going to do something to Ron'

'He's evil'

'He's working for-'

The door slid open, revealing the blonde hair and serious gray eyes of Draco Malfoy. He didn't seem to be worried, but his expression wasn't calm or focused either. There was a problem on his mind.

"Something's come up"

Rose fell back onto the seat as Draco Malfoy stepped back into the compartment, the door sliding shut behind him.

"I thought I told you not to disturb me?" Ares mumbled, turning back to the mirror that still floated in the air.

"It's important"

"Really now?" Ares sounded amused, "how so?"

Draco took a second, composing his thoughts.

Rose waited in perfect silence, not even willing to take a breath.

"You're not the only new student arriving"

This got a reaction out of Ares, a look of incredulity crossing his features as he turned to face Draco.

"I think he's one of his" Draco finished lamely, his eyes locked on Ares's.

'One of his? Why do they have to be so bloody cryptic!' Rose groaned internally, her heart still pounding as the two boys stared down one another.

"We pull into the station in an hour…" Draco mentioned idly, some other meaning obviously being conveyed to Ares.

Because his reply was, "fine. That's enough time. Where is he?"

"Only a few Cabins down" Draco opened the door, "he's sitting with Greengrass and Davis. Met them over the break I think, he's been back longer than-"

Ares held up a hand and Draco stopped talking, "I get it" he rolled his shoulders and stepped forward, his wand slipping out into his hand.

His old attire flickered and packed itself into the trunk along with the books and the list. The trunk snapped shut and locked loudly.

Draco stepped out into the hallway, and Ares made to follow him before stopping in the doorway.

"You never know who's listening Draco…" he glanced back into the cabin, his eyes drifting over Rose, "we need a find a place to discuss matters in the Castle. I'll speak to our mutual friend about possible locations..."

They stepped out of earshot.

After a minute, Rose found control of her legs and bolted from the room, rushing back to Hermione and Ron.

It took them a few minutes to calm her down and get her to clearly explain what had happened.

* * *

Tracey's new friend was a ball of sunshine. He had been homeschooled for the early half of his education, but found that Hogwarts was going to be a better place to continue his studies. That and he was a bit of a shut in.

Although, Joseph Stone was a source of happiness.

For an adopted boy that had experienced several hardships, as Tracey had informed Daphne, he was a bright sunshine.

A beautiful sunshine too.

Long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and an infectious smile.

He was ruggedly handsome, strong features and a soft gaze, the kind of features that Tracey would gush over. The soft spoken attitude was just icing on top.

Daphne didn't really have any interest in 'cute' boys, but she couldn't deny that he wasn't good looking.

He just wasn't her cup of tea. Not like Draco's new mystery friend.

Speaking of the Malfoy heir, he had been in their shared cabin a few minutes prior, and he had a very interesting conversation with Joseph.

Halfway through Draco had just stood up and left.

Curious indeed.

A knock on the door and everyone stopped speaking.

"Come in" Tracey said, a smile still on her face.

It dropped as soon as she saw Malfoy standing on the other side. She wasn't unhappy because Draco had returned, it was just that he had returned with company.

"Ares Flamel" Daphne found her voice first, and the green eyes traced towards her, just a vibrant and powerful as when she saw him earlier.

"Miss Greengrass" he smiled, and Daphne felt the mountain of insincerity that it held. The smile never reached his eyes, like his face was running through an emotion he was supposed to feel, rather then actually expressing it.

"Oh!" Tracey remained positive, and Daphne knew she couldn't tell about the predator that was lurking under the face of the newcomer, "it's nice to finally meet you! Daphne told me you were at the Malfoy Ball!"

Ares regarded Daphne for a moment, "did she?"

The slytherin felt ice leaking down her spine.

His eyes finally drifted away, focusing on Tracey, "I don't believe we were introduced properly" he bowed slightly, "Ares Flamel"

Tracey smiled at the boy, "Tracey Davis, a pleasure to meet you" she turned to look at Joseph, and froze.

The boy's face was ashen pale, his eyes locked onto Ares's.

"Joseph?" Tracey asked, worry in her tone, and everyone in the cabin turned their eyes to the boy, noticing his parlour and expression.

"I heard that I wasn't the only new student to be entering Hogwarts this year" Ares said, stepping into the Cabin and sitting down next to Daphne. He was seated across from Joseph, staring at the boy with an eerily calm gaze. His eyes were like glass.

"I…" Joseph stuttered, "I wasn't aware there were any others"

"Far more than I thought there would be" Ares leant forward, "are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost"

A smile sliced across his features, and Daphne noticed the slight wince that came from Stone.

He knew Ares.

Joseph knew something about him and it terrified him.

Movement out of the corner of her eye alerted her to Draco closing the door behind him.

Something was very wrong with this situation. Very wrong indeed.

"Do you two know each other?" Tracey butted in, and Daphne could have cursed her friend's callous nature. To be fair this was her first interaction with Ares, something that she couldn't fault the girl for. She had no clue what the boy was, or atleast what Daphne suspected him to be.

"Something like that" Ares still held that smile.

A cruel smile.

"Please…" Joseph suddenly whispered, "I don't-"

Daphne recoiled as a jet of red light struck Tracey in the side as Joseph had his wand yanked from his hand. He had been trying to draw it out from his pocket without Ares noticing.

Before her instincts could kick in, Daphne felt a wand tip on the side of her head.

"Don't"

Draco's face was expressionless, but Daphne could see the tint of sadness in it.

Ares was right in front of Joseph, a knife pressed against the smaller boy's chest.

"Let's have a chat"

And that was the last thing Daphne saw or heard.

She would wake up with no memory of what happened. Her head would feel fuzzy, and Tracey would ask if she was feeling ill.

Joseph would agree, briefly speaking about some nonsensical disease, and even if he seemed more skittish than usual, none of them would suspect a thing.

* * *

The great hall was just as he remembered it. Only this time it possessed a much fonder and lively atmosphere.

Harry remembered the fighting, the piled bodies, and then the fire that had eventually taken it.

The house tables were in line now. Smiling faces, idle chatting and a multitude of positive emotions. It felt strange to observe it all.

Again.

But for the first time in what felt like centuries, Harry was home.

As he stood at the back of the hall alongside the only other fourth year to be sorted, Joseph Stone, Harry had to surprise a smile as the sorting hat sung a merry tune.

All the first years looked in awe, excited, frightened and occasionally sullen. It felt strange to be sorted again. So many familiar faces were among the living once more, so young and soft, unbroken by conflict.

Neville Longbottom was one of the many faces that Harry spotted, the fearsome warrior that he called both friend and comrade now replaced by a far softer boy. It was somewhat refreshing to see the old Neville again. Another pair of eyes watching, and Harry shifted his gaze to the interested party.

Theodore Nott was looking straight at him.

Being one of the more recent names that had been racked up on Harry's rather impressive kill count made it odd to look back at the living and breathing teenager.

These faces were just a sea among many.

Many that had died.

Draco wasn't looking towards Harry, but he knew that his attention was on him.

Being sorted into the right house was crucial for the plan. Especially for Joseph Stone, who was sweating bullets having to stand alongside Harry.

He was one of the many death eaters that Voldemort had sent back before. A guinea pig of sorts.

But he knew who Harry was, and he knew what he had done during the war.

Having to forcibly stand next to an individual that wanted nothing more than to kill you was naturally going to be uncomfortable.

But Harry wasn't worried about Stone specifically. He was worried about what he represented.

More had obviously made it back, and in such a way that Draco and himself would have no knowledge of where, and more importantly when, they had turned up.

This one had been mostly luck, as a death eater that had been dumb enough to think he could just go right into Hogwarts and murder Albus Dumbledore.

Voldemort had given Orders to leave the Potter of this timeline alive.

If Snake face were to ever make it through, or the one in this reality was revived, then he would want to kill Rose Potter personally.

Judging by Stone, this was proven true.

Harry focused on the standing figure of Albus Dumbledore.

Silence blanketed the room and every head turned towards the old Headmaster.

"Students old and new, welcome back to another year at Hogwarts" he smile was soft as he stood at his podium, his twinkling gaze sorting through the students.

His eyes settled on Harry.

"Having been a student myself, I know the desire of getting right into the feast" at the word feast, a few whistles came from the Gryffindor table, resulting in chuckles from the entire hall, "but there is one last bit of business to attend to"

He gestured to the back of the hall, where Harry and Joseph stood.

"May I introduce two new names to the history of Hogwarts, ones that seemed to have been a little late to their first year sorting, and thusly shall be placed into their fourth year" he spoke with a layer of jest, a grin across his old but kind face, "Ares Flamel, and Joseph Stone"

Whispering broke out immediately, everyone studying the two new students. Harry noticed how the Ravenclaw table was studying him like a hawk. They and a few other students from the other tables must have been aware as to what his last name meant.

The son of Nicholas Flamel, the immortal Alchemist? He would surely have a treasure trove of knowledge.

Out of every expression in the hall, Harry was surprised to see Rose Potter looking at him.

And she looked pissed. Her eyes weren't narrowed, but she looked furious. Thunderous. Hermione and Ron had similar expressions, partially less intense but still present.

'I wonder what she's told them' Harry wondered, sending a smile towards the girl.

She practically jerked in her seat.

"Please Mister Flamel, approach the sorting hat" Dumbledore finally concluded his speech, explaining the circumstances of a fourth year sorting.

The chair and sorting hat reappeared up front, and dutifully Harry marched towards it.

This was it.

If everything went correctly, there would be no need to adjust the plan, but he would need to be sorted into the correct house.

To build the right connections.

Remove the right people.

Maybe even kill…

Harry stopped in front of the hat, giving it a brief appraisal. Hundreds of memories flooded him, ones of his first sorting, and the look of excitement and ellation from his soon to be Gryffindor friends.

Harry turned, sat casually on the small stool, getting a little chuckle from the student body, and placed the sorting hat on his head.

"Oh my…"

Harry felt it tear through every defense he had erected. As expected.

There was a long silence as the hat digested what exactly Harry was, what he was here to do, and the lengths at which he would go to accomplish it.

Even though the hat was bound to never tell anyone about what it saw, it still could warn the faculty of potentially dangerous students.

Harry let it see everything.

He had decided to let the hat judge if it was going to allow him through or warn Dumbledore of the deception.

"You're a bit older than I'm used to" the hat wondered aloud, humour in it's tone.

And Harry Potter let his entire body relax, knowing that the hat agreed with him. It was meant to be an unbiased reviewer, capable of sorting any student to where they truly belonged without letting any prior knowledge or experiences color its decisions.

But it had long been debated that the hat possessed the mixed personalities of the Hogwarts founders, each with their own unique take on any student.

But now he knew that he was through the first obstacle.

That hat continued to speak.

Harry didn't care what it was saying, and merely judged the expressions of those within the hall.

"Clever, yes, very clever" the hat expounded on, "you'd do nicely in Ravenclaw"

Harry saw the hope in the eyes of the Ravenclaw table, everyone seated with baited breath.

"But you are brave! Fearless! Godric would be proud to have you!" the hat almost roared, getting a startled response from the faculty.

Some personality was showing. The Gryffindors whooped and called, each sure that the verdict would be passed now.

"However…" the hat went silent again, "we both know the house you belong is _sss_ …"

Harry almost laughed at the hat's wording, the slight hiss that ended its sentence. Were all the Hogwarts founders so dramatic?

But the answer was given regardless of Harry's amusement.

"Slytherin!"

The table of green reacted, incredibly surprised that they got the Flamel heir. Draco looked like he was about to pass out, but still sent a grin Harry's way.

They had done it.

'Good luck, Mister Potter' the hat said only to him.

Harry nodded in thanks.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff clapped politely as Harry stood and walked towards the Slytherin table, the hat left on the chair behind him.

Joseph Stone glanced at Harry and then towards the hat, his face covered in worry.

Eventually, the death eater managed to marshal some kind of will and approached the hat with some shred of confidence.

It wasn't too far of a personality stretch for him to break his assumed cover, but enough that someone in the great hall noticed the serious expression crossing the boy's face. Someone who knew there was something off about him.

* * *

Meanwhile, Rose Potter was glaring daggers at the back of Ares Flamel's head. Having escaped the compartment on the train and hurried back to Ron and Hermione, Rose had unloaded the torrent of information she had gathered.

While Ron had pulled out his wand and declared war, saying that the 'creepy bastard' would never get a hold of him, Hermione had calmly informed both of them that escalating to violence was a silly idea, considering there was no proof.

Aside from the books Ares had in his trunk, Rose was dismayed to learn that none of the 'evidence' she had obtained was concrete.

Ron had asked what concrete was.

"The list that you saw, it'sjust that. A list" Hermione had explained, "even if we were to get Professor Dumbledore to search his trunk, not only would he have to find it, but it wouldn't mean anything" Hermione didn't enjoy having to lay it out bare for her friends, but she wouldn't see them needlessly and wastefully get themselves into trouble.

"Besides, even if we were to report him to the Professors, there is no way that we could know what he's carrying unless we had personally gone through his things! That means we'd have to admit to the cloak, spying on another student, and-"

"I get it" Rose sulked, sinking into her chair.

Ares Flamel was turning out ot be a bloody nightmare. One that might become a serious problem throughout the year.

He already seemed to know everyone on Rose's shit list. The Malfoys, Notts, Greengrass, Davis, Crabbe, Goyle… everyone in Slytherin looked towards him with some kind of recognition.

But there was one expression, one individual that didn't stare at Flamel with cool indifference or curiousity.

Joseph Stone had a face of fear.

The boy was terrified to be standing next to Flamel, occasionally taking glances at the taller boy before averting his eyes again.

When the proud call of "Slytherin!" was echoed out in the halls, Rose was not surprised in the slightest.

Flamel strode towards the Slytherin table, his robes already adjusting to the correct house color and emblem, and gave one last look towards Joseph Stone.

A look of rage and hatred.

In that moment, she saw the horror that manifested on the boy's face. Only a brief second, and she concluded that Flamel was one of the bad guys.

There was no way he wasn't working for the dark lord, or trying to serve the interests of death eaters.

He was magically powerful, dangerous and had some kind of hidden agenda for the school. And the students.

Joseph Stone finally sat down in the stool, taking the hat carefully and placing it on his head.

"...I believe the evidence speaks for itself" the Hat spoke, and declared for the world to hear, "Gryffindor!"

The lions erupted around Rose, each student happy to have another one for the table. Most wouldn't admit to the bitterness of seeing the Flamel heir go towards the Slytherin table, but they were content with Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived.

Over the noise and the cheer, even over the announcement of food and the sudden appearances of all the delicious dishes and servings, Rose found herself staring at Ares Flamel.

He looked livid in his seat next to Draco Malfoy. His eyes conveyed every bit of malice and rage, all of which was directed towards Stone.

Joseph Stone.

He knew Flamel, or at least had slighted the teen in someway to make him this angry.

Rose looked towards the new Gryffindor pretty boy, and after a few seconds deemed him okay in her eyes.

If he pissed off dangerous people who were up to something, he'd fit right in at Gryffindor.

Eventually conversation distracted Ares, who's eyes came to look at Rose.

Both held the gaze for a few moments, until Ares shook his head, and with a sigh turned to speak with those at his tables.

* * *

"It's going to be impossible to get at him now" Harry muttered to Draco, "and to make matters worse, he's right in the thick of them…"

Rose, Ron and Hermione had started to speak with the Death Eater, and the undercover agent filled his role, stepping in line with how Gryffindor operated.

'What the hell was the hat thinking?'

Draco drummed his fingers on the table, studying his dinner with lazy intent.

"There could be an accident?"

Harry snorted, "please, he'll be preparing for something like that now. If he had been sorted into Slytherin, we'd be able to take him apart"

"Take who apart?"

Theodore Nott had moved up the table, taking a seat directly in front of the two of them. He looked expectantly between Harry and Draco.

"Well?"

"I don't believe we've met" Harry growled at Nott, "so I don't see as to how our conversation holds any importance to you"

Everyone around them leaned back slightly but still watched the confrontation.

None of them were being obvious about studying the Flamel heir and his obvious association with Malfoy before, but now they couldn't look away.

"Theodore Nott, meet Ares Flamel" Draco said dryly, "Ares Flamel, Theodore Nott"

Theo smiled, "my pleasure. Now what were you saying?"

Harry took a moment to study the boy, turning to look at Draco with a raised eyebrow. The implied message was clear.

'Can he be trusted?'

Draco tilted his head slightly.

'Probably'

Harry focused his attention back on Nott, "I was saying perhaps we should speak about this in a more private setting"

Many of the more obvious observers looked away from the conversation, understanding Ares's icy intent.

Nott got the message and narrowed his eyes for a moment, looking at Draco as Harry went back to his meal.

"If you want to know, you want to know" Draco said dismissively, digging back into his roast beef.

Theo took his time thinking, eventually coming to a decision.

He continued his meal with the two boys.

Theodore Nott had come to the table with a plan. From the moment he had seen Ares Flamel and Draco Malfoy beside one another, he knew that everything Daphne had said was true.

There was indeed something happening between the two of them. Something far more than just friends. Like a business relationship.

And it was very clear that Ares was the boss.

Draco practically shadowed the teen, always differing towards his judgement, and in ways that no one in Slytherin house ever thought Draco was mature enough to do. To admit that there was a better out there than himself.

But what made Ares that better?

What was it about the Flamel heir that got Draco of all people to bend the knee in service?

Nott was going to find out, because Malfoy's didn't bow to just anybody. Not even Grindelwald had gotten a majority support from the Malfoy Family. Lord Voldemort had, and he had been noted as exceptionally powerful.

So what did that say about Ares Flamel?

Nott looked up for a moment to study the teenager, and noted once again the scars that traced up the boy's fingers.

There was far more here than he had expected.

And if there was something that Theodore Nott enjoyed, it was an exceptionally good puzzle.

* * *

"You know I've never seen someone so scared of another boy before" Rose stated idly, catching Joseph just as he came into the Gryffindor common room.

It was late at night but she had seen him wandering the halls on the Marauders Map. Rose never had problems with staying up late. Being the girl who lived wasn't all sunshine and rainbows.

Nightmares and dreams kept her awake late into the night on most days. Her mother would always give her potions and affection, but sometimes it wasn't enough, sometimes her mind would haunt her rest.

So she had stayed up late and waited for Joseph to return to the tower.

And he had, seeming startled that Rose Potter was waiting for him, and furthermore the question she gave him.

He smiled slightly, stepping over to her and taking a seat across from her.

"You don't even know half of it" he stared into the flames of the common room hearth, "Ares Flamel… he's not the kind of person you take lightly"

Rose watched the fire dance in his eyes.

"I have a reputation for always getting into trouble" Rose began, noting how Joseph never turned to look at her, "one of the most frustrating problems with this reputation is how awfully true it is"

Joseph finally looked towards her, his blue gaze soft and worried, "what does this have to do with me?"

"I'm also often credited for being able to find trouble with great ease" Rose sighed, "and Ares Flamel seems like trouble. Big trouble" she tilted her head slightly, "but you seem to know him"

Joseph flinched but said nothing.

"Is there anything you can tell me?"

The boy remained silent.

"Because if you can't I'll have to-"

"Don't approach him by yourself" Joseph finally said, "avoid speaking with him in private, and always assume he knows something that you don't"

Rose nodded, and Joseph took in a shaky breath.

"I had people who I was loyal to, people that I would do anything for... being an Orphan does that to a person" Joseph smiled softly, then his expression turned miserable, "but Ares… he doesn't care who you are, he doesn't care who cares for you, or who you care about, because if you get in his way..."

Joseph took in a shaky breath, "to him, everyone is like lint, or a bottle cap, just something insignificant that needs to be removed"

Rose remembered the green eyes, the ones that promised pain and anger.

"I don't doubt that" she uttered softly, "but if he's that dangerous what's he doing here? Why would the headmaster allow this?"

Joseph nodded, "that's what I came here to find out" he stood up, "this is all apart of a much larger picture Miss Potter, one that you do not fully understand yet. I'd ask you to stay away, not for my sake but for yours... however I don't see you complying with my wishes"

He stood up from his seat, nodding politely at the Girl Who Lived and made his way towards the boys dorms.

"Rose"

He stopped to look at her briefly, a question in his gaze.

"You can call me Rose" she smiled softly, turning away from him and looking towards the fire.

Rose Potter would think that she'd been right. That she would have Ares Flamel all figured out.

She wouldn't see the change in expression on Joseph Stone's face. The look of sadistic satisfaction that would cross the boy's features.

The boy would fall asleep knowing that he would be one step closer to his goal.

* * *

 **And the depth of the story increases! I hope you all are enjoying reading this as much as I am writing this! I know this chapter was kind of filler-ish, but I'm trying to set up a good backdrop for future events. I never liked how closed and dry cut the Harry Potter universe was, so in this story I hope to underline that not everything is going to be hunky dory. That there are infact some despicable people who do awful things in the name of the greater good. And not in a way where you label them blatantly evil (like every goddamn dumbledore bashing story I read). It's far to simple to just call someone evil and leave it at that. I'm going to try and construct a story where you hate characters, but have to respect them for the decisions they make. Or atleast question if they really are the good guys anymore.**

 **I'm fucking rambling, just really excited to finally post this.**

 **Have a lovely day and see you next time!**

 **-Freedom.**

 **P.S: ! ! !**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey everyone! Thanks for the reviews from the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this one.**

 **Please tell me who you think Harry / Ares should be ending up with, at the end. I DID have a plan as to who it would be, but now the whole cookie jar's been spilled, and there is opportunity everywhere.**

 **Hope you enjoy!**

 **-Freedom**

* * *

"How nice of you to join us" Severus Snape interrupted his speech to the first years in order to great Ares and Draco. His eyes appraised Malfoy for only a moment, shifting over to 'Ares' in the next heartbeat, "Mister Flamel, I believe I had someone tell you to be present for my announcement"

Ares displayed no emotion as he dipped into a small bow, "my apologies Professor Snape. I was studying the castle"

Snape just snorted and continued speaking.

A few odd looks were shot in Harry's direction, but the boy took no notice.

"There are two things that keep Slytherin house unique to the others. The first is that as a Slytherin, we are to present a united front" Snape pointed towards the exit of the house, "beyond those doors, any petty squabbles and conflicts are to be dropped. We are a house that sticks together regardless of what you believe or feel. The only one to have the back of a Slytherin is another Slytherin"

Snape stepped past the amazed faces of the first years and over too much a larger space of the room. A small pedestal with a Snakehead was the only thing that stood in the entire space.

"If there does happen to be a problem between yourself and another member of this illustrious house, you settle it here" Snape touched the top of the Snakehead, "this is the second aspect of Slytherin house unique to any of the other houses. This is the pit"

As he was speaking the floor gave way into a sunken space, like some kind of barbaric gladiator pit.

All the first years approached it, but Harry gave it a curious glance.

This was new.

He hadn't had something like this in the old world… he glanced to Draco, who upon seeing that he was being stared at just shrugged.

Draco had arrived just before the summer holidays had begun, meaning he must have had some kind of knowledge about the pit.

His forgetfulness was beginning to annoy Harry. But instead of being able to chastise his subordinate, Harry kept his focus on Snape.

"In order to use the pit, one issues a challenge to another. The pit comes with a cost, however. Either money, a position, favors, potions, or any other material things must be wagered. The winner will walk away with everything" Snape appraised the pit, and Harry guessed that the man must have taken a few things from others within there. He had also lost something as well.

It seemed like that kind of device, a way for children to squabble and orient themselves. Out of every house in Hogwarts, Slytherin was the only one which had a physical and obvious hierarchy. Determined by either power, political influence or money, every student that arrived was forced to place themselves somewhere in that structure.

The pit made men out of children.

It was a reflection of the real world they would be entering into. The lesson to be taught that someone, somewhere, was going to be stronger than you.

'And the loser shall have his shame, nothing more' Harry thought to himself, even as Snape began to take a few questions from the little ones.

"What are the rules for the pit?" a small voice asked off to the left.

"Win" was the only word that Snape replied with.

Intense whispering broke out between all the little kids, each of them panicking about being challenged by someone older than they were.

"You may always decline a challenge… but it would reflect badly upon you" Snape looked at some of the more nervous faces, the ones who weren't as proficient at magic, "you shouldn't find yourselves in too much trouble"

Snape turned around with a sneer.

"I hope"

And strode away to his office.

"The gnomes won't get blasted apart" Theodore Nott spoke up from beside Draco, having approached the two of them as Snape was speaking, "there's an unspoken rule to leave the weakest alone. There's no point defeating kids when you're an adult already"

Draco nodded, "it would make your victory shallow, and ultimately prove nothing"

Harry also saw that the pit was the proverbial 'wand measuring' contest of the entire house. People were oriented in clusters around the common room.

Alliances. Groups that banded together to protect one another.

For a house that likes to look united, it had deep fractures among many students.

Harry sighed, looking past the first years and into the large common room. Many faces were looking back at him, mostly some from his year, but those of the upper years as well. A group of what he would guess to be six and seventh years did indeed seem interested in him.

They were people who thought he'd be a worthy defeat.

"How soon can one declare a duel in the pit?" Harry wondered, committing a few of the more sinister faces to memory.

Theodore looked towards Harry in surprise, while Draco merely palmed his face.

Theo was the one who answered, albeit slowly, "as long as the pit is empty, a challenge can be requested"

Harry nodded.

His wand slid from his wrist and into his hand.

A burst of white light exploded from the tip, and the corporeal form of a Patronus wandered into existence.

The panther prowled the air around Harry, its eyes and head snapping to look at a new person every few seconds.

The act of spell casting had caught the attention of everyone present, and Harry carefully observed the faces of the people who harbored some kind of ill will. Most displayed shock before morphing back into a glare.

Others hesitated, thinking better of trying to challenge the now obviously competent wizard.

A wordless corporeal Patronus? If that did not denote some kind of skill peacefully, then Harry had no clue what would. His more destructive spells would give everything away.

Not to mention if he used his Sacclarius...

He still had everyone's attention, including the first years.

From behind the group, Harry approached the pit, somewhat enjoying how the children practically scampered out of his way. His panther wandered beside him before lazily coming to rest at the side of the pit.

"My name is Ares Flamel, and I would like to challenge anyone who thinks they could best me"

He was met by silence.

"Anyone huh?!" a gorgeous witch with jet black hair cascading around her head approached him, a wild grin on her face and hunger in her eyes.

She was a head shorter than him, but the entourage she had stepped away from were intimidating at least.

"Don't have a problem beating on a poor little girl?" she asked, batting her eyelashes up at him.

"No" Harry replied simply, sending off the Patronus to Snape's office. It would inform him of the duel.

The girl didn't react obviously to the blunt reply, but Harry noticed her hand tighten around her wand.

'She doesn't realize she's bitten off far more than she can chew' Harry and Draco shared very similar thoughts at that moment, both having noticed the girl's reaction.

The door to Snape's office flew open, and the man emerged from his study grumpily. He obviously did not expect to have to Proctor a pit fight.

He noticed who was standing by the snakes head.

"Already, Mister Flamel?" the potions master glanced over to the girl, his eyes narrowing, "of course. I shouldn't have expected anything less Miss Black"

Harry almost reacted to that bit of information. The slight wince in his stare was the only thing that gave it away. Instead, he studied the girl who stood across from him, obviously a fifth or sixth year.

Long black hair. Somewhat wild. Check.

Crazy expression, willing to fight at any time. Check.

A temper. Check.

Attitude, sass, the same bloody grin…

'Holy blazing dragon shit, Sirius has a daughter' Harry turned to glare at Draco, to which the boy shrugged helplessly in response.

The blonde prat had forgotten to tell him.

Harry's glare could have been roughly translated into, 'we're going to talk about this later'

"I will deem if the demands for each fighter are equivalent," Snape said, "Miss Black, as you issued the-"

"She didn't" Harry cut through, "I did, Professor" he tacked on the title at the end, trying to act like he was worried by Snape's venomous stare.

"Very well. Mister Flamel, as you have issued the challenge, Miss Black may request what she wants from you"

The girl didn't even hesitate.

"A philosopher's stone"

She went right for the throat.

Of course, she would ask for the most extraordinary invention that the Flamel family was credited with. Honestly, though, Harry respected the choice, considering that he would have done the exact same thing if their positions had been reversed.

All the upper years reacted to the large demand. Whispers broke out for a few moments, many people wondering if Harry would even accept at this point. Snape had mentioned something about equivalence, meaning that Harry would be expected to ask for something he deemed just as important from his opponent.

"That seems fair" he cocked his head sideways, enjoying the look of worry which broke out across the girl's face. Her grey eyes had widened slightly, before narrowing down into a glare. She would have cursed him this very instant if she could. A million thoughts must have been going through her head, but she had settled on the understanding that Harry thought he would win.

And as much as she wished she could wipe the smug smirk that danced across his face, they weren't in the pit yet.

"And you, Mister Flamel? Snape asked.

Harry thought for a few moments, even if his mind was already made up.

This was a perfect opportunity, one that he could not squander.

"A favor," Harry said simply, "no more, no less"

Now Harry could really appreciate the fear that was beginning to settle in. He could see it in her eyes, the deeply rooted twinges of worry.

Harry could have asked for anything in exchange for what Miss Black had demanded from him.

Her family fortune, her hand in marriage or in service, and instead he asks for a favor, something that could technically still be declined.

A flimsy request for help at a later time in the future.

At that very moment, Black knew he was going to win. She knew that whoever stood in front of her was so sure of his own victory, that even she had to entertain the distinct possibility. He had thrown up nothing against a bet that would decimate his family, only to simply smile at her.

Of course, the immortal alchemist would train his son and heir!

Oh Merlin, he's probably powerful too! And old! He could be 50 years old or something!

But he knew he was going to win.

"Very well" Snape gestured to the dueling pit, and almost in time with his movement, two sets of stairs appeared on either side, leading into the sunken pit of Slytherin house.

Harry watched her movements, taking a healthy amount of satisfaction in how rigid her steps were, or how she avoided his gaze.

She couldn't look at the proverbial noose. He was here to establish his position in the pecking order of Slytherin house, but not just for his year.

For the entire house.

She would just be another rung in the ladder, another name added onto a long line of defeats.

They both reached the lightly sanded floor of the pit at the same step, Harry keeping his stance relaxed and soft.

Sirius's daughter was terrified, her wand already tight in her hand.

She was going to go down fighting though.

Black's had a habit of doing that it seemed.

"Before we begin, I find it awfully rude that I've never caught your name" Harry spoke softly, almost regretfully. He was about to damage her reputation irreversibly.

"Persephone Black" she growled, knowing that her intimidation was falling flat.

Harry had fought people like her in the war.

People who understood.

If you came across Harry Potter on the opposite side of the battlefield, it didn't matter who you were unless you were the dark lord himself.

Scar head would cut you down, steal your magic and move on to the next kill in a heartbeat. Most soldiers in the muggle infantry were too scared to even be in the same room as the butcher. Many of the wizards on both sides of the war were convinced that Harry and his team had a quota of killing that needed to be fulfilled daily.

So when any adversary had enough time to be able to recognize him and knew what lay under that calm and blank demeanor, Harry always gave them true respect for taking that fear and securing it.

It was still there, and they knew they would lose, but it didn't stop them.

They would still have their pride.

A prominent feature in wizarding culture was pride. More often than not, it was the death of a wizard in the face of formidable odds.

And while she wouldn't die here, Harry had the slightest of feelings that he would be gaining a follower from this.

...That, or a very pissed off enemy.

It was 50/50.

* * *

Daphne had disengaged herself from the conversation as soon as Flamel and Malfoy had returned. Nott wasn't even subtle as he got up from his chair and moved towards them.

Snape didn't even chastise the boy for being late, merely snorting and continuing his explanation.

Ares was listening in to what Snape was saying, even as he was studying the other people in the room.

His eyes met her for an instant and then moved on without hesitation. Any further study of the occupants of Slytherin House was halted as Snape began to explain the pit.

Ares glanced towards Draco, and Daphne could spot the embarrassment on the Malfoy's face.

'Oh, he didn't tell him about the pit?'

Which seemed strange for all intents and purposes. Malfoy obviously didn't do anything serious without Ares's go ahead, nor would he purposefully forget to tell his not so subtle boss about anything mildly important.

Ares and Malfoy seemed to be as thick as thieves, something that Theodore wanted in on. Most of their age group was already looking towards Ares as some kind of serious player.

While the others wouldn't be alright with the direct approach, Theo wasn't the kind of person to sit and twiddle his thumbs. The boy liked action and would go to some extreme lengths to get what he wanted. And while everyone viewed Ares as some new opportunity, Daphne couldn't help but feel fear.

She just wasn't sure if their understandings were correct, or even close to what was really going to unfold.

They were beginning to assume that he and Malfoy were to be just a game changer for the fourth year.

But Daphne felt it was more than that.

They were here to take it all apart.

Ares didn't seem like the kind of person to just settle for king of the fourth year… no, he'd be the kind of wizard who'd take the entire house.

Nott had reached them, and as Snape stormed from the room, he began to speak with Malfoy and Ares.

Draco talked, Ares just stood there, his attention returned to the other people in the room.

"You really need to stop staring Daphne, people will start getting the wrong idea" Tracey Davis landed on the couch next to her, "yeah I get it, he's dishy, but-"

In an instant, positive energy flooded the room. This was followed by the purest source of warmth and happiness that just absorbed everything.

Daphne knew what it was, even if a few people around her muttered about ghosts or something, anyone who had been in the castle during the escape of Rodolphus Lestrange and the follow-up ministry action would also know.

A Patronus. One of the only, if not the only spell, to force Dementors to retreat. Also, a Patronus was arguably one of the most beautiful spells in the world. Not just visually, but in the purest sense of magic, nothing could feel more _right_ than a corporeal Patronus.

Rose Potter had been known as the first person in their year to have accomplished a fully corporeal Patronus.

One of Malfoy's more ill-advised pranks had gotten him a silvery stag to the chest, something that had actually managed to frighten the idiot.

And now the smokey mist had formed together into a panther, powerful and corded, stalking its way through the air.

It glided from the space above their heads, before settling on the ground. All the first years, most of whom had never experienced magic on this level before, could only move away in awe.

Daphne felt the smile on her face, even as Ares strode through the sea of astonished faces.

He seemed like some kind of benevolent god in that moment, his gaze focused only on the pit. His path led him to the edge, and his panther slumped down next to it lazily hanging over the sides.

"My name is Ares Flamel" his eyes stared deep into the pit as he spoke, "and I would like to challenge anyone who thinks they could best me"

The words were loud and clear. Proud and powerful.

He was establishing his presence, seeing what nasty creatures would come out of the woodwork. Who would be the biggest snake of the pit?

"Anyone huh?!"

Daphne felt an incredible urge to roll her eyes. Out of everyone who would gather the will and want to fight, of course, it would be _her._

Persephone Black.

The daughter of the infamous Auror, Sirius Black, and one hell of a nut job. Sirius was spoken of in pureblood circles. To be honest, it wasn't a fond speech that most would use to describe the black sheep of the Black family, but many remarked on how he was good for one thing.

His daughter.

She was a true black, one that was more than just a last name. A love of dark magic, a need to prove herself, and the brash attitude in order to further the name of her family.

Rather than herself.

She was similar to her father in many ways, but she would never admit to it. Daphne had seen the parallels on the occasional event at which her father had dragged her along too.

The estranged daughter.

Persephone Black's aunts, cousins, and uncles all believed she would be the one to restore the black family to its glory.

"Don't have a problem beating on a poor little girl?"

So, of course, she would be willing to take a stab at the fresh meat.

"No" Ares replied, merely staring the girl down. Without needing to verbally command it, or even flick his wand, the Patronus got up and dashed over to Snape's office.

The two of them were beginning to attract a lot of attention from others. Persephone's group in particular. Many were holding their wands by their sides or at least had some kind of inclination to draw them.

A door burst open and Daphne turned her eyes to watch Professor Snape emerge from his connected office.

He took in the scene before him in a brief moment, sighed, then approached.

"Already, Mister Flamel?" the Potions master sounded so very irritated, but his tone carried less of a bite then Daphne would have expected.

He turned and fully appreciated the girl who had challenged the Flamel.

"Of course. I shouldn't have expected anything less Miss Black"

Daphne almost missed it. The smallest of reactions from Flamel. His back had stiffened and she could have sworn his face had twitched.

Sweet Merlin, he was good at keeping his emotions under control but he wasn't foolproof.

Very deliberately, Ares turned his head to look directly at Malfoy. It was only for a moment, but Draco shrunk back slightly, his face practically bleeding embarrassed.

Daphne knew others would see this. They would all begin to make assumptions. Plans would change.

She wouldn't be surprised if someone tried to throw Malfoy out of his right-hand position by the end of the week.

Snape spoke again.

"I will deem if the demands for each fighter are equivalent" Snape "Miss Black, as you issued the-"

"She didn't" Ares cut across, his eyes on the girl, the green orbs only drifting to Snape for a moment.

"I did, Professor"

The silence was cold, and Snape looked like he was either going to explode or freeze over. At least he wasn't shaking like he usually did when Persephone pissed him off.

"Very well. Mister Flamel, as you have issued the challenge, Miss Black may request what she wants from you" Snape explained, his tone lacking any true emotion, but the drawl was there.

Daphne realized what the Black girl would say a second before she did.

"A philosopher's stone"

Persephone's declaration got an incredible reaction from the room. Incredible by Slytherin standards at least. Almost everyone was whispering to one another, and not even subtly. This was tantamount to basically shouting in the common room.

But Ares's response turned it up a notch.

"That seems fair"

Daphne felt floored. One of the rules of the pit worked on what the fighters deemed as equivalent but could be overruled by the head of house. Whatever Ares was thinking of was equivalently important to a philosopher's stone.

He could demand her to be a slave. A bride. Her family wealth. A portion of their stock and holdings.

Any priceless artifacts stored in the family vault.

The Flamel heir wanted something as famous and powerful as the item his father had invented. The item that could grant immortality.

"And you, Mister Flamel? Snape was curious himself, and he masked that curiosity carefully. He didn't display the baited interest that almost everyone else in the room was exuding.

Daphne sure as hell wasn't.

Not at all.

And then Ares spoke.

"A favor"

A... what?

A _what_?!

"No more, no less"

'He could have… he…' by Merlin's beard this boy was so unpredictable and annoyingly confident Daphne wanted to pull her hair out.

The silence ended as soon as he declared it, but at this point, she was sure the boy didn't care at all.

His eyes were on the Black heir, analyzing her and what she was thinking.

He was enjoying it too if the light curl of his grin was anything to go by.

Snape officiated the duel, and the stairs leading down into the pit appeared on either side.

The students which were crowding the common room slowly began to approach the pit as the fighters descended.

This would be the defining moment for both of them, for the rest of their Hogwarts education.

What they did now, the actions that they would be willing to take… everyone would remember them.

Daphne knew that Ares was counting on it.

With the large group of people stepping past her, Daphne stood as well, making her way through the tense silence. Whispers and feet moving echoed through the space.

As she stepped around a third-year student, she was finally able to see some familiar faces.

Draco and Theo had already moved closer to the pit for a better view, standing on the far side of Daphne.

Grey eyes met blue for a moment, and Draco's eyes softened for a moment from their prior intensity.

An arm bumped into her side, and Tracey's face swam into the peripheral of her vision. She seemed almost as interested as Daphne felt.

"If we've had enough talking?" Professor Snape eyed both the fighters in the pit and the people around him, getting some abashed and flushed faces in response.

Daphne could just see into the pit and was able to see the back of Ares' head.

"Begin"

Persephone unloaded a barrage of spells, coating the walls of the pit in a blue and red strobe of flashing light.

Ares did not move, a sheen of glowing air condensing into a blue circle in front of him. Each spell impacted the shield and then vanished.

Daphne saw his hand twitch.

A monstrously loud 'bang' echoed out in the pit. Persephone Black was flung against the wall behind her. Her body smacked off the wall before slumping onto the floor.

Unconscious.

It had been resolved in almost a second.

"The winner is Ares Flamel"

He remained still however, observing his defeated opponent. Snape's words didn't seem to reach him as he remained idle.

He had crushed one of the more formidable fifth-year students in a heartbeat. He had barely moved, barely even talked! And he had wiped the floor with her.

Eventually, he spoke.

"Is there anyone else?" his voice was softer, far less cold than it was before. In the silence, everyone could hear him perfectly.

Snape was instructing Persephone's friends to take her to the hospital when a commotion broke out. Some heated name calling and snarls were happening off to the left.

Everyone heard it, but couldn't discern who it was.

"I'll have the same thing she had" a much cockier voice called out.

"A big fat loss?" another voice replied in jest.

There was a flash of light and a yelp before the crowd parted to show the newest challenger.

"I'll be taking that philosopher's stone Flamel" Adrian Pucey had his wand in hand, his eyes directed straight towards Ares.

It wasn't a glare, but there was malice in the look.

A sixth year versus a fourth year?

In terms of magical strength they should be entirely different, with Ares being unable to match up to the more developed wizard.

"A favor" Ares nodded, placing the same reward he wanted as before.

Persephone's group had removed her from the pit, and had sliced through the crowd. Their unconscious friend would be fine.

She'd be baying for blood once she was awake though. Daphne knew the girl enough by reputation that Ares was going to have her hounding him for weeks. Months even.

"Adrian Pucey, enter the pit" Snape commanded, still on the edge of the pit, his eyes focused on the black haired pureblood.

The sixth year boy grinned and strode to the steps, taking them two at a time until he stood upon the sand.

Ares idly moved his hand, testing his wrist.

Daphne narrowed her eyes at the motion.

What was…

Was that...?

Daphne Greengrass was completely sure with herself that she had seen a flicker of light dance across his fingers. In that very instant, he had done something.

"Begin" Snape switched to monotone, seemingly bored with the fight already. Because unlike anyone else in the room, he knew that in the instant Ares had moved his wrist, the fight had been decided.

Pucey brought his wand up, a vicious look taking ahold of his arguably handsome features.

He never made it to casting range.

Halfway up, his body suddenly stiffened. Pucey was no longer moving, his entire body locked up. Frozen.

Ares began to move, slowly approaching the boy with his wand obviously in his hand. Daphne saw the strange wand that glowed. It had _veins_ running up the length of its black wood.

Ares gave a small flick and Pucey's wand flew into his other hand.

He continued walking until he stood face to face with the similarly tall boy, his eyes looking deep into the purebloods.

His wand was then raised and touched right under the other boy's chin. Ares turned to stare idly at Snape, his face covered with no specific emotion.

There was a bright red flash of light.

Pucey fell to the ground unconscious. Ares dropped the wand atop the frozen form of the boy a moment later.

One of Slytherins most diverse and powerful duelists had just been swept aside like a kite in a hurricane.

Daphne found that an oddly fitting description in the current silence of the common room. If was just like the aftermath of a powerful storm.

Dead silence.

Not a word.

Ares finally spoke, his words ringing loud, but his tone so very firm.

"Anyone else?

The deathly silence was created from shock. No one could speak. No one wanted to. The thing in the pit might take that as an affirmation to fight.

Snape did not need to announce anything, merely sneering and walking away from the pit.

Ares watched him leave, before slowly turning to look at every face that surrounded the pit.

His eyes found Daphne for a moment as they did for every person that looked at the victor. In the silence, Daphne watched as he forged both respect and fear from everyone around him.

Eventually, he stepped out from the pit, the champion and winner. The witches and wizards that stood at the edge of the staircase moved back from him. Daphne watched as the entire crowd shifted away from him.

Now standing among them, but so very far away, Ares appraised the room.

"You don't understand. You don't get it, do you?" one of his eyebrows was cocked as if to challenge the room to think or say otherwise.

"How alone you are?"

Daphne was confused, and going by the faces of all the others in this room, so were they.

Ares flicked his wand away, getting a few startled jumps.

"Do you know what is unique about the house of Salazar Slytherin?"

Silence.

"From the very moment that the emerald green slithers onto your clothing, you have become everyone's enemy… including yourself"

Daphne noticed how a few of the older students stiffened as well. But they did not speak. In fact, it seemed like only the first years were confused. From those in the second year to those in seventh, Daphne could see clarity.

She felt it as well. She didn't know what the purpose of the speech was, but she did know what being a Slytherin meant.

"The house of dark wizards, the treacherous and the evil" he listed off on his hand, "that is what I was told and that was what I learned" he was moving now, slowly stepping through the crowd. He took the time to study the different faces around him.

In an instant, he stopped to look towards a group of seventh years.

"But that is _not_ what I see right now, right this instant" his eyes were almost glowing in a way, not wide, but focused and intense.

"I see children, girls, boys, those on the cusp of becoming adults… I do _not_ see the next _Lord Voldemort_ "

People gasped and shouted at the name. Even Daphne shuddered in revulsion and fear. Her eyes were off him in a second.

A wave of magic stilled the room into silence.

Ares was not done talking.

"Even a blind man could see this. But basic understanding does not stop the ignorant from labeling you so. Even less can stop the harassment, jokes, and abuse... So as every action creates a reaction, you lash out"

He had their attention again, the fear of the Dark Lord's name slowly ebbing away.

"I've heard the stories of how mischevious this house _can be_. Out of either spite or hatred to those that have labeled you so, you _act_ "

Many abashed faces flicked downwards for a moment after his gaze passed over them. The people he spoke of knew who they were. Surprisingly enough, Draco did not move his head. Daphne watched as he looked right back at Ares as the boy's eyes swept over him.

"As they have acted on you"

He took a deep breath.

"This, I understand"

His wand came out and he began to cast spells into the air, generating circles of magic, wondrous spectacles. Items were conjured and floated in the space, constantly shifting between forms through transfiguration. Fire danced with water as lightning swum through the earth.

Daphne had her breath taken away by the beauty of it all. So did many of the others that stood around her, if the calls of awe and shock were anything to go by.

But Ares did not admire his work, he merely looked among the crowd still.

The beauty vanished.

"If a member of House Slytherin is told enough times that he is evil... if everyone aside from himself believes it, then eventually… he will believe it. He will become what they have labeled him as"

"He has no choice but to, society will not let him be anything but what they believe he is"

His eyes hardened immediately.

"This ends today"

He stepped towards Draco. Nott looked like he wanted to be anywhere but beside the blonde as the black-haired monster approached.

Ares and Draco stared at one another for a few moments, before he turned his head to address everyone who watched on.

"I have made a promise to a dear friend of mine… to protect not only this house but what it stands for. No longer will the proud home of the cunning need to cower under the expectations and assumptions of others"

Draco didn't look at him anymore, his eyes were glazed over and focused on the ground. He was remembering something and trying not to. Daphne was currently feeling numb to what he was talking about.

Because it was true.

Every word of it.

"Enough of this isolation. The color of our clothing does not denote who we are" Ares gestured to them, all of them, "there is no person but yourself, who decides who you become"

His hands dropped to his sides.

"My name is Ares Flamel, and if you'll let me, I'd like to help you stand"

He nodded towards Draco, and the two of them cut through the crowd. People stepped out of their way. A few hesitated, as if wanting to say something to them, but Flamel moved right through them.

At the last second every person avoided them.

They disappeared into the boys' dorm room.

Daphne watched them go.

As soon as Ares vanished the silence ended. Comotion and talk, heavy discussion and even some brief cases of shouting.

In all the chaos Tracey still managed to find her, quickly dragging her off to another location.

Pansy, Millicent, Lily and Astoria were right behind them.

They all needed to speak as well.

* * *

"What in the name of Merlin was that?" Hector Morrow paced between the seats around the fireplace, "he cleaned the floor with both of you!"

He swiped a hand through his curly black hair, eyes shut as he considered what had just happened.

Adrian Pucey sat silently between Elizabeth Dower and Jessica Palace.

Hector had been the one to take him from the pit and quickly ennervate him. The two boys had watched with the others of their group, as the new fourth year gave his _speech_.

"What does it even mean?" Elizabeth wondered, her musical voice so soft as she studied the others in the group, "I know what he said, but how does he intend to change it?"

"It doesn't matter what he said" Daniel Rookwood snapped, glaring at the girl who shrunk back into the couch.

"And you!" Daniel turned on Adrian, his brown eyes blazing, "did you even try?"

Pucey still didn't say anything. But he did stand. He got right up and walked directly towards Daniel, wand in hand.

Both boys were face to face, with Daniel flinching under Pucey's constant stare.

"Shall I get Professor Snape now, or later?"

The strongest of their little group was a constant battle between Adrian and Hector. Daniel was the follow up, but he still had a significantly large gap between himself and the dueling two.

He resented this space, but would never admit to its existence. Before their little group had officially formed, and even in the infancy of it, Daniel had owed both Hector and Adrian a serious amount of gold and items.

His pride would never let him admit to being weaker, just merely unlucky. But at times he would put it aside in order to work alongside Hector and Adrian.

Now however…

He was livid.

Daniel was about to retort, but Hector forcibly placed himself between the two of them.

"This childish bickering gets us nowhere! Unless you wish to challenge Flamel yourself, do not judge Adrian for what happened!" Hector snapped, he turned to Pucey in the next second, "but Daniel is right, what happened in there?"

"He cheated" a much softer voice then Pucey's cut in.

Everyone in the group turned to the white haired girl, Jessica.

"He cheated" she repeated simply, idly turning another page of the book she held.

"Well then, there we go," Hector sighed, he pointed a finger at the irate Daniel "we go to Snape, tell him about what-"

Adrian eyes flashed with understanding, because he cut across Hector before anyone concluded anything.

"You _saw_ something, didn't you?" he asked Jessica.

Her misty blue eyes glanced up at Adrian, before she nodded briefly.

"Well shit" Daniel groaned, "we are _not_ giving Jessica up… not to reverse the outcome of a fight..."

"And to be fair" Jessica tacked on, "this was new. It didn't look like any kind of spell I've _seen_ before..."

Jessica Palace came from a long line of prestigious Purebloods. Being one of the more historically intertwined family's, you either had an alliance with them, or desetest the very ground they walked on.

Her lineage could be traced back to Merlin himself. And the gift, that was supposedly given to them from the first wizard himself.

Their _sight._

The ability to see the manifestation of magic, a secret only given out under oath, and one that the Palace family kept under close guard.

Jessica Palace had indeed seen the magic which had restrained Adrian Pucey.

"His magic was like some kind of black string," Jessica recounted, remembering the small movement which sent the invisible cord towards Adrian, "he threw it at you, and it tangled up your entire body. As soon as you tried to cast, it tightened around you"

Adrian remembered the feeling of being constricted.

The tightness in all his limbs.

His inability to move as Flamel just walked towards him, and stuck his wand right under his chin.

Then a flash of red, and nothing.

He was awoken to Hector's bespeckled and stern face, and Ares Flamel striding between the crowd, just speaking.

Adrian returned to his seat between the girls, and he felt Elizabeth's comforting hand on his back.

She knew he was disturbed by what had happened, and trying to be the comforting girlfriend that she was, was attempting to assure him.

But Adrian didn't need comforting.

He needed the truth.

A truth that he finally figured out.

"He's a Lord" Pucey finally admitted.

Silence was becoming increasingly common in Slytherin house. Everyone of their group just looked at Adrian with some degree of shock or anger.

"Now hold on a moment Adrian, we shouldn't..." Hector had finally stopped pacing, and he slumped into a single unoccupied seat, "we shouldn't jump to such conclusions"

"He already has Malfoy as some kind of servant. Why would the son of Lucius Malfoy follow around some unknown entity? Let's have a look at the history of the Malfoy's" Pucey stated calmly, but his anger was growing.

"After a slew of Dark Lords rose in europe during the dark ages, from generation to generation, it is possible to track the service of each Malfoy, from first to last" Pucey growled, glancing at an approaching fourth year who stopped on the cusp of the group.

He shook his head and the girl sighed before walking away.

No one would approach Adrian and Hector's gang unless first requested.

"Now, we all know who Lucius backed," Adrian shot a firm look at Daniel, "we all know who your father backed"

Daniel Rookwood snorted, but said nothing.

"And what have they said about their mutual master, how did they describe him? Strong, powerful, handsome, charismatic, intelligent… do any of those words, Ring. A. _**Bell**_!"

He roared the last word, getting a few startled reactions from the other groups in the common area.

The other groups were there to observe and watch their group. Adrian's collection of friends were the strongest in Slytherin house, they didn't care which way you leaned politically, but how hard you could swing.

All of them were the strongest of the upper years. Elizabeth and Jessica were the strongest members on the house in seventh year. Rookwood was a tank, but still only a fifth year. Both Hector and Adrian were the sixth year kings, and could wipe the floor with the strongest of the seventh year.

Because of their strength, the actions they took dictated the response and follow up of the other groups. Unofficially, but technically, they were the heads of Slytherin house. Not much happened without their say so and nothing happened without them hearing about it first.

So of course every other group was watching theirs to see what would happen. How they would react.

In any other situation where a kid thought they could step out of line and declare himself or herself the strongest, they'd get themself hospitalised after a round in the pit.

But Flamel? A fourth year kid with that kind of power? He upset the entire system. Everything.

Adrian took a deep breath, "in a single move, Ares Flamel rooted me to the spot and rendered me harmless. In one second, I could do nothing against him. In any other situation, if anyone else did something like that to someone in the pit, they would have torn me up and humiliated me"

'We all would' went unsaid, but all of them reacted in some way. The girls shifted uncomfortably in their seats, remembering the faces of people they'd done as such to.

Hector became more stern, and Daniel lost his fiery edge.

"Tell me that what we've just seen tonight, doesn't even seem in the slightest, that Flamel is a Lord?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth than closed it. She agreed with Pucey. Even if he was just a boy, Ares Flamel seemed either very skilled, or very powerful…. Or both?

She had only seen the magic happen, she hadn't experienced it. Finding out what Flamel was would only be conclusive if she challenged him.

The look on Jessica's face made her reconsider the-

"No" Daniel finally said, "no he isn't. I'll challenge him tomorrow. I'll prove it" he was so serious. He had shoes to fill, that was for sure.

"And you will lose" Elizabeth found the words escaping her mouth before she could catch them.

Daniel deflated, reclining back into the chair almost instantly.

"I would… wouldn't I? I mean after all," he flicked a finger in Adrian's direction, "he wiped the floor with you..."

The group settled into silence once more.

* * *

"What the fuck was that Draco?" Harry was right in Malfoy's face, eyes blazing "is there anything _else_ you've missed?"

Once you hit the third year in Slytherin house, from that point on you are given your own room, a sacred space for yourself.

Harry had not been in his room yet, and was ripping into Malfoy's hide just outside the door.

No one else had come from the common room yet, so they were free to have their talk under a very powerful silencing charm.

"I don't know!" Draco winced as Harry just continued to glare, "you're asking me for some kind of answer that I can't give you! I've got memories Harry, memories that I know don't belong to me!"

Draco closed his eyes and leant back against the door.

"I just took over someone else's body Potter, I can't tell which memories are mine or his anymore, I'm missing details, things that we both know I can't afford to miss"

"Did Snape ever teach you how to Occlude?" Harry said seriously, not fully understanding the problem, but getting the gist of it.

Because of Malfoy's overlapping Memories, in certain cases he wouldn't know which memory applied to the situation. They had blended perfectly. The Malfoy of Harry's world, and the Malfoy of this world all swirled into one.

He should never have assumed that his Draco had made a clean transition.

Even Harry was dealing with some problems, and problems of the mental category at that.

"Of course he did. If I didn't know how to I'd have been a dead man during the war"

"So you got the defenses down, but did you ever figure out how to organise your mind? Thought management? Emotional suppression?"

Draco didn't say anything.

Harry sighed, "you've had a lot of prep time Draco, you could have refined so many of the basic teachings that you learnt in the war"

The blonde boy looked offended, "well I'm sorry I couldn't just down a vial of Exousia and turn into a bloody monster, but I didn't get a _new_ body" he growled, "I'm stuck fighting over this one"

"Fighting?"

Draco grunted, "poor choice of words. It has been a pain in the ass to sift through all these memories" he wrapped a knuckle against his head.

"We'll go to Snape. He can teach you Occlumency in its full" Harry felt a sensation behind him and spun away from Draco, his eyes on the corridor.

Theodore Nott was standing there, his arms crossed and serious, but his gaze was uncertain.

Harry canceled the silencing spell.

"Yes?"

"You told me we'd speak later in a more private setting" Nott was a few meters away, standing in front of his door.

"Indeed I did" Harry brushed his hair back. In the next moment he opened the door to his room, gazing at the other boy.

"We speak in here, nowhere else" Harry watched as Nott began to internally debate.

The prior interest that the boy displayed was still there, shifting under the surface of a momentous decision.

While he had no clue just to what exactly 'Ares Flamel' and Draco Malfoy were up to, based off what had just happened in the common room, their goals were nothing short of grand.

Such decisions would normally mean that people would be given time to discuss them. But to be bold, to be ready to do what needs to be done… Harry could only trust the people willing to commit to something greater than themselves.

To think past themselves, and be willing to leap.

Now there might not be a ledge to catch you, but Harry needed people who would be willing to fall. Because he wasn't going to win this war by being nice.

"Fine"

Nott muttered, stowing his wand and walking towards them.

Draco opened the door and gestured into the spartan room.

Harry stepped through the threshold and began casting. The room expanded first, followed by a series of furniture appearing. The bed vanished.

His trunk appeared above a small closet and anything that resembled art work was replaced by charts and papers.

Work gathered by Draco Malfoy, but Nott had no way of knowing this as he stared stupidly around the room.

On one of the charts, Theo could see at least twenty different pictures of people, each with lines connecting to one another.

"Heir Nott" Draco's voice was cordial and formal, "please take a seat"

Theo's heart was currently hammering, but there was no going back now.

More spells were cast as the door closed. Silencing charms and probably a few repelling charms. Ares seemed like the kind of guy to create warding stones for extra security.

Nott turned

'Ares' had conjured three seats around a small circular table in the center of the room.

He placed his wand on the table and sat down calmly, giving a brief look to Malfoy and Theodore.

Malfoy sat down a second later, also placing his wand on the table. The wands were pointed inward, and Theo could see the glow of magic subtly surrounding each wand.

An enchanted table.

"We sit here as friends" Ares began, "I will speak, then you may ask your questions. Know that if you wish to return to some semblance of blissful unawareness, I will obliviate you of everything we talk about without hesitation"

Theo's throat felt thick, but he swallowed and nodded, sitting down slowly.

"Your wand" Draco muttered, boredly glancing at the Nott heir.

Theo nearly fumbled to place it on the table, but eventually managed it.

All of the wands were pointed towards the center of the table, each perfectly in line with the other. While of course they were different lengths and sizes, the wand was directly in front of each chair that its owner sat in.

Nott was finally able to get a good look at Ares's wand. The black monstrosity with the glowing lines tracing alongside it.

He could feel its presence from here.

A predator of a wand.

"Theo," the boy looked up to Ares, who was casually drinking from a mug of butterbeer, "to simplify your early questions, you wanted to know what we were doing. You want to know why Malfoy follows me around, why we more than obviously seem to be in league with one another, and the goal we are working towards"

Ares placed his mug on the table and leant forwards, his green eyes gleaming.

"Not only do I plan to follow through with my promise I have just made to Slytherin house, but I also plan to murder the man responsible for its downfall"

Theo took his time, piecing together exactly what Ares was implying with that.

When he did though, Draco couldn't help but smirk at how wide his eyes got.

"Our ultimate goal is to kill a man named Tom Marvolo Riddle" Ares leaned back in his chair, also enjoying the ashen face that Theo had adopted, "but you'd know him by a more infamous name"

It was a surprise to both of them that Theo said the title.

"Lord Voldemort" the boy shuddered but he didn't stutter, properly pronouncing the name.

"Indeed" Draco smiled at Nott, conjuring his own glass of whisky wandlessly. Nott's eyes went wild at the casual display of power, looking between Draco and 'Ares'.

Draco had just displayed a skill that he had never shown before, a level of control and power that he would have all but flaunted a year ago.

How long did Malfoy and Flamel have this plan cooking? They were children! Kids! As old as the rest of them.

Nott put his head in his hands.

"How exactly do you plan on killing one of the most powerful dark lords to have ever risen?"

A drink appeared in front of him, and he looked up at Ares, a glint in the green eyes unsettling him even further.

"Tell me Nott, do you know what a Horcrux is?"

* * *

Rose knew it was a dream. She'd come to that conclusion a few minutes ago. Or was it hours?

She honestly couldn't tell.

But it was horrible.

The sky was dark, the only light from the heavens was lightning. Rain blanketed the ground. The water had turned the dirt muddy, giant puddles of liquid forming in gaps and spaces.

She could hear the noises of what was happening, but it was like being underwater. She was away from it all, the power and destruction of the war happening around her.

Wizards and muggles stood among one another. Slabs of metal were protecting them from green spells and red sparks of gun fire.

They shouted, bled, screamed and ordered one another, throwing small circular objects at an enemy unseen to her.

They were shrouded in the mist, a force she couldn't see. All these hopeless faces, filled with fear and anger were going to be destroyed.

Rose knew it.

She didn't know why she knew it, but as she looked among the hundreds of people that were killing and dying in the muck, she knew they were all dead.

A bright light got her attention.

The rain ceased.

It came from the mist. A horribly grotesque spectre was pulling itself together from the air. It was a torrid image that slandered everything pure.

A monstrous figure, ghostly and thin, ragged and inhumane.

It's face was a gaping maw, set to devour the world.

The fighting had stopped momentarily, as the hundreds of living people looked upon this image of horror.

A roar came out from the defenders, silenced and weak. Rose watched the futility of the defenders.

Each of them doing their best to destroy the thing that haunted them.

Bullets flew through it.

Spells did not touch it.

The beast did not play with its food anymore.

Large ghostly wings spread out from behind it, and laying close to the dead earth, it swept towards them.

It washed over them, all of them. It touched every single one of them, and then vanished without a trace.

Rose watched as they all took a moment to rejoice. To celebrate that they believed that had won. Men hugged women, the youngest cried and searched for their parents.

And then the first scream echoed out.

Rose snapped her head behind her, as did almost every other person that stood there.

A witch stood alone, her allies having stepped away from her as some unseen magic took its toll.

She collapsed to her knees, looked directly at Rose and was blow away into the wind. Her body had been reduced to nothing but ash.

And then she knew, Rose knew what was going to happen.

More screams broke out.

Mothers ran to their sons and daughters. Fathers embraced their children. Loved ones clutched each other.

In a heartbeat, they were reduced to ash. The wind carrying them to their graves.

Rose felt tears on her face, but she was numb to the destruction.

The darkness that shrouded the battle was lifted. A large complex stood behind the defenders, it was covered in barbed wire, protected by fences, watched over by towers.

And from where the beast had come…

He was clad in dark black, his hair far dirtier than she had ever seen it. She could clearly see his face was scared and older…

Ares Flamel stared right back at her, as if he saw her.

"Get out"

* * *

Rose Potter exploded awake, tears in her eyes, her body shivering despite the warm room.

Hermione would come to her bedside immediately, attempting to comfort the distressed girl. She would ultimately chalk it up to the bad dreams Rose had been having since the world cup.

But Rose would start to think differently.

It had been a week since the sorting, since classes had finally begun, and she would wadger all of her wealth that Ares Flamel was the cause of her nightmares.

She didn't know what he wanted, but it had something to do with Rose, something that she still didn't have any clues towards.

But he was testing her.

She knew it.

* * *

Harry Potter sat up with a frustrated sneer.

For the fifth time consecutively, Rose Potter had once again invaded his dreams. The battle of Frankfurt had been last night's highlight reel. One of the fresher memories that had a habit of coming into his mind again and again.

Not that the blasted girl was doing anything to help that. Her presence in his head was becoming annoying at most, bloody ridiculous at least. In fact, Harry had the feeling that she was the one causing these memories to appear. Like some kind of trigger.

He brushed these thoughts away as he got up off the floor. His back was sore from where he slept, but the Hogwarts beds were too soft.

After learning to sleep during the werewolf invasion in Germany and…

"Merlin forbid" Harry muttered aloud, recalling the nightmare that was France.

He had slept in a many unsavoury circumstances. Sleeping on the marshmallows that were Hogwarts bedding had proven to be impossible on the first night.

"Tempus"

Five in the morning. Six hours of sleep this time.

Better.

Draco would be awake by seven, and Nott by half past.

Harry knew what day it was. The day of the week or the date did not matter, because this was the day the other schools would be arriving.

This was the day of the Triwizard Tournament.

It would be announced, and that blasted Goblet would appear.

Harry dropped into a push up position, dipping to the floor and counting aloud.

He still had not made up his mind as to if he should allow Voldemort's minion to place Rose Potter's name in the cup. Alastor Moody had been replaced by another, this was certain. But Harry didn't know if it was Crouch or not. He had spotted none of Barty's physical mannerisms, and had held off judgement.

The man might be a better actor in this world, and wouldn't let such a visible tick be so obvious… or it might be someone else.

Since Snape was meant to be technically in the dark about the operations of the dark lord, he was not a useful source of information.

No one was.

And Harry couldn't currently dip his finger back into the underworld again. Hargreave was looking for him without a shadow of doubt.

The Man in Black probably was as well.

He'd only reconnect with his more illicit contacts once the heat had died down.

But that meant leaving Rose to be entered into the tournament…. Or let her spend more time around 'Joseph Stone'. The boy was probably influencing the decisions she made, and if he was working for The Dark Lord, would stop short of nothing to get her name into the cup.

Because Harry knew that they didn't want her dead yet. She wasn't useful unless dead. She needed to be alive for the ritual.

All other methods that Voldemort could use to revive himself were too far out of reach and protected to consider.

So Rose had been the obvious choice, just like Harry had been.

Harry decided he'd go for his run later at night. For now, he'd shower and wait for Malfoy in the common room.

* * *

"You look good today" Ron jibbed as Rose sat down with a gigantic frown on her face, "absolutely-"

"Please keep your mouth closed Ron" Hermione sighed, pulling up a seat next to the ginger boy.

Weasley's face went red and he mumbled a 'sorry'.

"S'all right" Rose muttered, helping herself to some eggs and toast, "the bastard was in my dreams again"

"Rose!"

"Again?" Ron mumbled after swallowing what looked like a whole chicken.

"Yeah again… this one was bad... but not as bad as the Paris one" Rose shuddered just remembering it. When she closed her eyes sometimes, she could see the fire still, like it was burning through-

"Rose? Rose!" Hermione's snapping fingers brought her back.

Ron grumbled.

"You should go to Dumbledore about this. I told you that you should have told him already. Especially bout' how that-"

Hermione coughed.

"- _git_ is in your head"

"Speaking of" Rose groaned as the Slytherin group entered into the great hall. Ron and Hermione turned around to cast them the evil eye.

"Tempus" Rose murmured, further groaning as the clock ticked exactly onto a quarter till nine.

8:45.

Every damn morning like clockwork they showed up.

Hermione had noticed it was just Draco and Theodore Nott that accompanied Ares to breakfast.

But then other faces had begun to show up.

Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. Blaise Zabini, Crabbe and Goyle.

Rose and Ron had been there when he had shown up with sixth years. Adrian Pucey, one of the better Slytherin Quidditch players, and Hector Morrow, an academic kid.

Ron had heard a story about how Morrow had managed to hit both Fred and George with a hex in a matter of moments. No one had seen him cast it.

And at the center of it all was Ares Flamel.

"You look like hammered shit"

Rose snorted as Joseph sat down next to her, both of them ignoring Hermione's glare.

"Would you believe I woke up like this?" Rose smiled wearily, and Joseph just laughed. Ron smiled and Hermione allowed a little grin to slide onto her face.

"So, what's up for today?" Joseph gave Hermione his most dashing smile, obviously hoping to avoid being chewed out for swearing.

Hermione rolled her eyes but pulled out a small notebook.

"We've all got double potions with Slytherin this morning. After break then we have charms with Hufflepuff" she pointed at Ron then Rose, " you two go to care of magical creatures"

She gestured to herself and Joseph, "we've got Arithmancy"

"Lunch!" Ron chimed in happily.

"Lunch" Hermione sighed much to everyone else's amusement "And then double defense"

"With Slytherin" Joseph muttered, something at another table catching his eye.

Rose looked over and saw Flamel turning his head away.

He and Joseph had been staring at each other again. Stone was still looking in the Slytherin's direction, his face tense and angry.

"It's alright" Rose rested her hand on his, getting a jump out of the startled boy, "he can't get you here" she spoke softly, "we've got your back"

Joseph took a moment to study her.

His eyes were filled with… pity? Remorse?

Suddenly a beaming smile cut across his face, and Rose couldn't help but smile too.

"Thank you"

Rose nodded and they all stood up. Class would be starting soon.

* * *

 **Well, I hope you all enjoyed. If you would like to see more of something, or less of something, reasonable reviews explaining why would be appreciated. Thank you for your time!**

 **Have a lovely day,**

 **Freedom.**


	5. Chapter 5

**This is crazy! 300 followers! And not that many complaints to be honest. I'm really happy that everyone enjoys the work I'm putting out. Still not sure what the pairing should be but eventually I'll find something I'm comfortable with.**

 **In case none of you have noticed yet, do not take anything the characters say to one another at face value. ESPECIALLY if it is from someone else's perspective. You don't know what they are thinking unless it's written that THAT is what they are thinking. I prefer to keep you all on your toes and to look for the hints I give you throughout the story.**

 **Another thing I'd like to point out are the scars are an important part of Harry's character. People around him are getting accustomed to the powerhouse that is Ares Flamel, even though everything about him is a complete lie. A lie based on truths, with the only deception being the scarring on his body. Just a bit of a note I wanted to give the more vocal of you all.**

 **As the story progresses, I'll reveal slowly what actually happened at the department of mysteries, I'll try and leur you into a trap, just to pounce on your feelings and tear them up, because I'm horrid like that.**

 **My ultimate goal for this story is to make you feel.**

 **I don't care if it's happy, sad, funny, angry, or anything, as long as you FEEL. To me, that's one of the greatest successes in the world.**

 **-best of days,**

 **Freedom.**

* * *

Everything had been going according to plan.

Durmstrang and Beauxbatons had arrived at Hogwarts castle. They had arrived just as Harry recalled. Nothing went wrong. There were no surprise attacks, no sudden acts of Merlin or a higher power. Smooth and painless.

The carriage that pulled the assortment of French students and the sturdy ship containing the militant northern European assortment had arrived safe and sound.

All the Hogwarts students had been in the great hall as the new arrivals proceeded to demonstrate the uniqueness of their schools.

Durmstrang postured and intimidated, while Beauxbatons enthralled and ensnared.

Harry was proud to note that almost none of his growing group was taken in by the Veela thrall.

Nott looked suitably humbled when Blaise lightly hexed him to retain his attention.

Harry had to admit though, Fleur Delacour looked far more beautiful this time around. Maybe it was the small scar near the corner of her lip, and the more vicious look in her eyes that really spoke volumes to him. She was still as stunning as Harry had remembered her before, but now she seemed powerful too.

She was in control of her life now.

He had hoped the events of the World cup would teach her as much.

Albus had stood just like in the old world, welcoming each of the students of the other schools, and extending Hogwarts to be their home away from blah blah blah.

The detail of the speech couldn't concern Harry any less.

Nothing went wrong. And it was supposed to stay that way…

However.

"We'll be meeting this sunday for another class" Harry stated idly, getting a nod from the closest people around him. They would inform the others.

He looked down at the roast pork and returned to his meal as Albus explained the occasion.

"Now, as I had mentioned yesterday, Hogwarts was supposed to announce the return of the Triwizard Tournament at the start of this year!"

Dumbledore paused. Letting everyone soak in the given information.

Harry looked up.

He was speaking as if that prior statement was to be contradicted. Or altered...

Something smelt off, and it wasn't the food.

Sure, the students of the other schools had arrived a week late, but Harry had only chalked that up to a difference in the timelines of either world.

There shouldn't be any significant changes to the Tournament.

"The rules for the tournament have been changed!" the wizened wizard announced joyfully, and Harry had to resist trying to pound his own head into the table.

Everyone watched with bated breath.

"In 1792 the Tournament was discontinued for the serious danger and peril that it put the contestants in. Having no one to rely on but themselves, the Tournament unfortunately claimed many lives, regardless of the strength and power of the individuals selected" Dumbledore almost frowned, and Harry caught the look on the man's face.

He was having his arm bent for this one.

This wasn't Dumbledore's choice.

"And so, the Ministry of Magic alongside the three schools involved, Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang have decided to increase the competition size. No longer will a single contestant from each school be selected! But now three!"

Harry felt his entire world dropping away from him. Dumbledore's words were on an empty background, drifting in a black sea.

All he could see, hear or feel was anger.

Three?

THREE!?

 _ **FUCKING THREE?!**_

The table creaked slightly under his grip, and everyone seated around him glanced in his direction. They all blanched at the look on his face, but Harry couldn't care less.

His decision had been to shadow Rose, and have either himself or Draco intervene in order to assist her throughout the tournament.

When the final challenge was going to come, he would apparate into the maze and confront the abomination at the Graveyard.

He could kill that form of Voldemort, giving himself enough time to destroy the other Horcruxes before the monster could reform a body.

Now everything had been screwed up.

Everything had now been fucked up beyond all repair.

Of course he shouldn't rely on his past knowledge. His very existence was creating ripples in time, affecting future events in unforeseen ways.

On top of that, this was a different world, the people here were in some cases shades of their former selves. His alternate self in this world was evidence enough.

"You alright Flamel?"

Harry snapped away from it all and glared at Daphne. She was seated across from him, her eyes curious but alive.

She matched his anger, even if Harry could see the trickle of fear in her features. She was trying. As were all of them.

He sighed.

"Fine. I'm fine, Greengrass" he knew that she wouldn't believe it, but it was the only answer he could realistically give her.

She rolled her eyes, muttering something about boys and Harry almost let a smile across his face.

'No.'

There was no time for anything like that.

He had a mission, and a purpose.

However…

It wasn't productive to stew in anger, he needed some kind of release. Now what did he do in the…

Harry turned to Malfoy, who was seated beside him.

"I need your brooms"

Draco choked on a piece of asparagus. Everyone around them laughed.

* * *

"So where's Joseph?" Ron wondered, leaning away from Seamus and Dean who had excitedly talked about the tournament.

"Studying" Hermione informed, already looking through a book in her backpack, trying to find more information on the tournament.

"A thousand galleons per winner! That's three thousand galleons in prize money! I wonder what happens if one of your team mates-"

Rose ignored him as she finally got a good line on Ares Flamel's face.

Oh, he was so angry he looked like he was going to turn purple. Was that the only emotion the boy was capable of expressing, rage?

Suddenly his features calmed, and he turned his head slightly to look at the blonde haired princess of Slytherin.

Daphne Greengrass.

Probably his girlfriend or something at this point. They all followed him around like he was their leader or ruler. A shepard for the sheep.

He said something to Draco, getting some audible laughs that carried across the room. Probably because Draco had tried to inhale his food.

The blonde boy fumed before replying. Rose couldn't read lips or hear what they were saying, but Ares had gotten the affirmative.

Malfoy handed something small to Ares, and the boy pocketed it immediately.

"Where's he off to now?" Ron wondered from beside her, having followed her line of sight.

He was right to wonder, as Ares Flamel broke from typical routine and stood before the Slytherin group had finished.

He strode down the length of the table, slowing down to gently pat Adrian Pucey on the shoulder. The other boy had looked ready to stand, but Ares's action had halted that.

Ron glanced to Rose, "I have the map on me"

Rose looked to Ron, a smirk on her face, "the cloak's with me"

"You two really need to consider dropping this vendetta against him" Hermione frowned, "he's done nothing but send you horrid looks! Malfoy hasn't bothered us since the term started!"

"Ah, but the year is young" Ron grinned, getting to his feet, "hurry Rose, or we're going to lose him"

Rose felt a thrill of mischief and a sense of justice as she got up as well.

Maybe they'd finally catch him in the act.

She wasn't sure what they would catch him at, but it had to be something incriminating. At least, more incriminating then his usual routine.

All he ever did was frequent one of the corridors on the seventh floor. Then he'd vanish. None of them were sure how he was circumventing the map, but somehow he'd be off its ever constant radar. On occasion, so would some of the other members of his house.

They were up to no good and Rose was sure of it. Ron agreed. Hermione just said it was suspicious. She refused to take a stance on it.

But Rose could recall what he said on the train. What he had said to Draco.

He had mentioned about meeting in a more private place, and something about a mutual friend.

While she wasn't sure who it was specifically, Rose had an inkling that it was the Potions Professor, her Mum's close friend.

Severus Snape.

While she couldn't directly prove that he was in league with him, she knew that Snape was on his side. Aside from just being a Slytherin and a member of his house, the professor had some additional ties to the boy.

Even if Mum said he was a good man, Rose knew what her Dad thought of Snape. Sirius had always said that the man was always up to no good, and now Rose was also seeing it.

On multiple occasions Snape had defended Flamel, and given him late slips or excuses for absences. The boy was always quoted as one of 'the greatest potioneers' Snape had ever witnessed, constantly being taken aside and requested to attempt for complex work.

Everyone else believed that the boy had become Snape's personal project.

But not the Rose or Ron.

He was doing something else every time he missed a class, they were sure of it.

McGonagall would have dished out every detention from Monday till the end of the year with the kind of attitude Flamel displayed in classes.

It was like he deemed other activities far more important.

He didn't even show up to defense sometimes, always getting a slip from Snape to explain his absence, or a pass from Moody due to how good he was. Or atleast quoting something about working on a project with Snape.

It didn't help that anytime there was a practical lesson that he missed, he'd come in the next class and cast the damn spell wordlessly.

Malfoy totally copied notes for him and gave them to review later. There was no way he'd be that on top of class considering he barely attended any of it. While Rose also subscribed to the school wide theory that his parents had him taught from a young age, she didn't think they would have put him under such rigorous training.

He seemed almost… military with how he functioned.

They exited the great hall two minutes after Ares had.

"Blimey he's moving fast" Ron mumbled, quickening his pace as he followed the map, "he's headed upstairs all right…"

Instantly fearing he was going to vanish again, Rose began moving faster.

If he got to the seventh floor quickly he'd disappear again.

"Hurry then!" Rose urged, rushing past Ron and going for the stairs.

* * *

Harry needed fresh air. He needed to feel himself in the wind again. While he could go gliding around the air broomless he didn't have the magical energy to keep himself in the air for long.

Only a few minutes at best. But on a broom he could be drifting above the clouds for hours.

Yeah, he'd be taking the help. Harry was going to try his best to make sure his identity was never compromised in any form. After all, what kind of fourth year student, even one that is magically powerful, has that kind of strength and ability to throw around. If he were to be caught flying without a broom, he'd be getting a detention at worst. At best, Snape would probably find some way to help Harry out. But if he were to fly with no broom? He'd have to stay close to the castle, and someone would surely see him. Not to mention they would most certainly tell a teacher.

Albus would begin to question things Harry had no intention of every having to answer.

The shitstorm that would follow if anyone figured out who he really was just wasn't worth it.

Albus Dumbledore most certainly would not appreciate being lied to.

Besides, once the plan was done, and when Harry had killed Tom… then he could rest. Until then, he would resort to some good old fashioned broomstick flying. To ease his nerves.

So Harry had Draco hand over the pair of collapsible brooms. The hand built ones that focused on speed over anything else.

During the war sometimes you needed to make an escape once wards went up. With portkeys and apparition capable of being blocked, sometimes flying your way out was the most sure fire thing to do.

Quick to deploy, fast to escape on. A dream 'get out of jail free card' for any wizard.

The two brooms contained in the small kit were bulls. All power, no finesse. They'd serve the purpose Harry needed them for.

Hopefully he'd be able to tear up the night in peace.

His destination was just ahead of him, one that would remain unoccupied for a few more weeks.

The Astronomy tower.

While usually there would be an Astronomy class hosted at the later hours of the night, Professor Trelawney still hadn't set up an official date for this.

Harry had heard through the grapevine that she was having to postpone the class until all the visiting students were settled in comfortably, and then she could apply to see which dates were most plausible.

This just meant that Harry had free roam of the tower until later.

Harry stepped up into the room, moving up to the open air part of the tower.

The railing was only a few meters away from him.

He reached into his pocket, ready to prepare a singular broom, but… there was a voice on the wind, and it wasn't coming from outside.

"Where did he go?"

There was a hiss from the lower floor.

"Quiet Ron! He'll hear us!"

Harry's eyes narrowed. Rose and Ron. He idly realised that years ago, when he would have been their age, he wouldn't have heard them. But now his hearing was far better than most humans. In fact, some creatures would be hard pressed to sneak up on him. He wasn't as jumpy and trigger happy as in the first few years of the war, but he was always on edge.

A good soldier was always ready to do what was necessary.

But these two didn't know the futility of their efforts, and more importantly, they just wouldn't let him go.

Rose didn't even have the decency to stay out of his dreams. She just had to be as annoying and bull-headed as he had been.

'Then make it stop'

Harry held on to the errant thought for a moment, giving himself exactly five seconds before he sprung into action.

Quickly drawing his wand, he placed both brooms against the railing of the tower with a flick, followed by casting a very powerful spell. While the room of requirement did not technically exist and thus the map could not follow him there, a little extra was required here.

Harry slowly slunk back into the shadows, all light receding from his body.

Time to wait.

* * *

Rose scanned the map fruitlessly. It was no use though. His name had up and disappeared again.

It all felt so wrong to have to follow Flamel. The bastard was tricky though, if anything by his ability to avoid the Marauders map gave that away.

Slippery was the word Ron was looking for as he cursed the boy under his breath.

One second he was there, the next second it was like he never existed. The only proof of him entering or exiting a room was being there to see him in the act.

His posse wasn't likely to give away anything. Especially to Gryffindors.

Ron wasn't taking anymore moments of silent contemplation though.

As soon as he was sure that Ares's name had vanished from the paper he growled in frustration, stepping out from under the cloak and cursing.

Rose sighed and pulled the cloak off of herself as well.

"I just don't get it!" Ron groaned, "this is just like the seventh floor!" he began to pace back and forth.

Rose watched her best friend maturely deal with his irritation and felt the spark of a smile on her face.

"But we know he's up to something… he has to be" Ron concluded, "we need to go to Dumbledore about it"

"We don't have any-"

"Proof, I know" Ron snorted, "but it's not like telling Dumbledore would hurt? He trusts us Rose, enough so that he'd do some digging around… at the very least he could see things we might have missed"

"That's… a fairly decent idea Ron" Rose considered, genuinely surprised by his moment of wize understanding, "let's do it"

"It works. Whenever Fred and George did something stupid, Mum would find some proof of it" Ron smiled, then frowned, "but there's still something bothering me"

He glanced around the tower room, "if Flamel was in this room and he's vanished again… why'd he leave these Broomsticks over here?"

Rose looked past Ron's shoulder to see what he was pointing at.

Indeed there were two midnight black racing Broom's, each a design Rose had never seen before.

And then, she processed the words Ron had given.

Her stomach almost fell out.

"Ron" she whispered, eyes darting to the nearest of shadows. There was only one logical reason that Ares Flamel would have left anything behind. It would be because he wasn't done with them yet.

Because...

'He's still here'

Ron crumpled to the floor when the bolt of red light slapped into his back. The power behind the spell pushed him off balance slightly, causing him to sprawl out.

Her wand was snatched from her hand, and whisked into the darkness of the tower. A familiar face with Green eyes emerged from the shadows, his wand still pointed dangerously at the girl.

"Rose Potter. What an unexpected surprise to find you here" he conveyed innocent confusion, but she knew he was mocking him.

He'd put Ron down almost instantly, but he was hesitating on her, wand drawn and expression expectant. As if he wanted her to reply.

Currently she was rooted to the space beneath her. Her feet had turned traitors and refused to let her move.

Back on the train Rose had come to the conclusion that his presence was suffocating. But now that she no longer had the cloak to save her, his full attention was pointed solely at her.

It was terrifying.

"Cat got your tongue?" he didn't smile, merely frowned and sighed.

"Go to hell" Rose hissed, her hand balling into a fist.

She was going to rush him.

She was sure of it. Every second that past was a second closer to knocking this smug bastard on his ass.

Except she couldn't move. Her entire body felt as if it had been wrapped up by some giant breed of snake.

The constant squeeze was felt throughout her entire body.

"What..." she tried to struggle, but gave up after the agonising moments of futility it proved to be, "what did you do to me?!"

Flamel stayed a few feet away, his wand held lazily in one hand and by his side. He had his head cocked slightly to the side, a few stray strands of black hair dusting across his face in the open air.

"Restrained you. I thought that would be obvious?"

Rose said nothing.

Ares narrowed his eyes at the defiant girl.

He skipped past any chit chat and moved blatantly into the questions.

"How are you invading my head? And don't try and play dumb…" he flicked his wand at her, sending a cutting spell right past her face.

An errant lock of hair drifted to the floor after being shaved from her head.

Rose watched it fall before looking to him in shock. Which morphed to rage.

"Invading your head?! You bastard! You're the one pulling me in!" she exploded at him, her gaze livid, "every bloody night I have to sit through your sick dreams, unable to do anything! Your disgusting, you son of-"

He idly cast a silencing spell. Well, that's what it had to be, because Rose knew her mouth was moving but no noise was being projected into the room.

What a prick!

Rose raged under the curtain of silence, trying to fling every insult imaginable at the evil twat right in front of her. Nothing went through.

Subconsciously she was in awe his impressive mastery of most forms of magic. Currently though, she felt like she was a howler from Molly.

Ares waited patiently for her to struggle in silence and futility.

Eventually Rose was forced to stop, taking a few breaths in silence as cold green eyes regarded her.

"Are you done?"

Rose glared.

"So. My _dreams,_ " Ares flicked his wand and cancelled the silencing spell. Rose noticed the emphasis he put on 'dreams'.

"Your intrusions are unwelcome"

Her response was snappy and quick, but still collected and focused.

"How do I know you're not the one doing this?"

Ares rolled his eyes. Rose felt like she was being talked to as one would a child.

"I value my privacy. Too much to allow some _school girl_ idle access to my head" he glanced to Ron, "even if this school girl and her friends are doing as much as they can to be a pain in my ass, I'd still settle for a solution that makes both parties happy"

Rose couldn't find anything to say.

Ares noticed this after a few moments of silence and sighed deeply.

"It's simple. You don't want to be in my head as much as I don't want you to, do we agree?"

Rose nodded.

"Then let's start-"

"No"

Ares closed his mouth slowly, his eyes narrowing at the Potter girl.

"Maybe we could have worked towards something if I could trust you. But I can't Flamel. You're up to something. Dumbledore might not care, or he might not even know, but there's something happening behind whatever curtain you've pulled over everyone else's eyes, and I won't let you pull it over mine"

Ares said nothing for a few moments.

Rose was content, knowing she had unseated him even a little bit. Because he didn't know that she was on to him. The list, the books, the meetings, the lateslips, she was just getting start-

"And you think that by sneaking into my cabin on the train, you suddenly have all the answers?"

Rose felt her stomach drop, and her expression must have changed to something shocked, because Ares let a slow grin trace across his face.

"Oh? Didn't think I knew about that? While it's an impressive cloak" he gestured to the pooled cloth on the floor, "it does little to mask your noise, or your smell"

Rose's mouth wasn't working properly. If it was she would have found an appropriate response to the arguably creepy 'smell' comment.

Ares started to approach her, his grin subsiding in exchange for a more serious expression.

"You know nothing little Potter" he loomed over her, hands clasped behind his back, as their green eyes stared into one another's.

"You think that you're a step behind me, just out of reach of the truth, but you're not. You're running in the dark, Rose. No one has prepared you for the gauntlet you need to survive, and no one will" he reached up and brushed away her hair, revealing the scar.

"He's coming back" his eyes remained on the scar, "while the rest of the world sleeps better at night believing he's gone for good, I know better" he looked down to her, " _we,_ know better"

'Voldemort… he's talking about Voldemort' Rose concluded, 'he does… he does work for him'

Ares smiled.

"And I'm going to do my best to make sure he does come back"

Rose felt her heart plumet. She was standing face to face with a supporter of Voldemort. Restrained against her will, her best friend was unconscious a few feet away from her. Things couldn't get any worse.

Rage and anger split into Ares's face.

Or maybe they could.

"So I can kill him myself"

The statement rang out into the empty space, and Ares turned away from her to summon both brooms to himself.

'WHAT?'

'But…'

'He's aligned with Draco Malfoy! All of Slytherin treat him like some kind of-'

"Why should I believe you!" Rose finally found her voice as Ares almost stepped out of her vision.

She still couldn't move after all.

The shout got him to stop abruptly.

He turned his head towards her.

"Who do you think gave me those scars?"

A small smile drifted across his face.

In that instant, Rose saw more than just an evil man. She saw someone. She saw just another kid trying to get through school, but had an unimaginable weight across their back. Just like she did.

He had to do something for others. Just like she was expected to be the one to end Voldemort.

But unlike her, he hadn't been filled with love to motivate him. All he knew was hatred. She'd withhold judgment on the nature of his actions, but she could now understand them.

He was tired of it, but knew it had to be done.

They shared a few attributes, not many, but they were serious enough for her to begin drawing parallels.

His eyes turned cold and guarded, the emotion of his smile slipping under the dark surface.

He nodded curtly and turned away, the movement catching the scars that peaked out the side of his collar.

As Rose recalled the memory of his body, the deep and ancient wounds that dressed all across his form, Ares left her in the tower with her unconscious friend.

From the shadows her wand rolled into sight, gently stopping just before her feet.

In a few minutes, she would suddenly regain control of her body. Next she would awaken Ron.

And lastly, she would wonder about what Ares Flamel had just told her.

* * *

Fleur Delacour rose from her bed in complete silence. Sliding out from her bed and strided towards the vanity mirror in her room, she admired her naked form in the mirror.

Her eyes traced from her toes to her head, slowly resting on the one thing that ruined her.

The imperfection. The wound. Her disfiguration.

She was the most beautiful girl at her school still, and yet her perfection had been destroyed by British hatred.

The day she had received it, Fleur hadn't been able to keep herself together. Not only had she seen that the pecking order of life had been ready to give her a fresh reminder, but she now knew she had been incapable of defending her own family.

Veela had a more intimate connection with not only magic, but their relatives. Blood was important to them. Not like a Vampire, but that the connections it built were eternal and far-reaching.

Those that were related to a Veela either through mating or marriage, were extended an invitation into a community that had always learned to care for itself against the spite of a jealous world.

A world where beauty had been valued overall.

Now Fleur, one who had been regarded with recognition by her peers, was talked about only with pity and condolences.

Sure, it had been dramatic. Having been caught by Death Eaters would scare most, but Fleur knew of the extra length that the English Blood Purists would take to inflict pain on 'creatures'.

But she had lost her pride. They would have hurt Gabrielle. They would have hurt her. Or worse.

Fleur shuddered, once again tempted to Glamour away the scar on her lip that traced slightly down her face.

The mark.

The reminder that she had failed not only herself but her family.

But she couldn't.

But if she did cover it all up, to try and forget, she'd have to forget _him_.

The one being who had come through hell, wand waving, and magic practically swimming in the air. A powerful wizard willing to put his life on the line and do the just thing.

His hidden form had drifted over her, just before the men with the face of Skeletons had acted.

Fleur remembered the fear she felt. In her terror she had pulled her crying sister closer, trying to protect her from the horrible world.

"Please, do not hurt us" she remembered her wobbling voice, improper and uncomposed.

A pair of intense blue eyes regarded her, and Fleur could see the magic flickering across his features.

Her masked hero had replied, and with every word Fleur could feel the honest promise of safety grip her warmly.

"Wasn't planning on it" she saw the bandana crinkle, he was smiling.

Fleur still imagined it, imagined what he looked like.

His eyes glanced around him as he slowly began to raise his other hand.

"Stay down and you'll get out of this alive darling" a red book appeared in his hand, and Fleur watched her savior murder the wicked men and women.

It was glorious.

The masked man would spill blood to save her.

She had been appalled by all the death, but glad that someone had had enough. Someone had taken action among those that would talk and deliberate while others died for them.

"Thank you" Fleur whispered at the mirror, imagining blue eyes hovering over her shoulder.

She looked away and closed down her thoughts, taking a moment to move to the shower and prepare for her early morning jog.

The sun was just crossing the horizon outside her window.

* * *

Harry sat up quickly. He had slept well, noticing that with a little extra potionwork, Rose Potter had not taken a tour of his mind at night.

So after stretching and a few moments of exercise, decided to go for his daily jog. Draco had thanked him for returning his brooms and mentioned not to wake him for this morning, Harry walked past the other boy's door.

Outside of the castle, Harry had taken a break from his laps around the lake. Resting softly in the grass Harry had lain in the slowly rising sun, basking in its lovely warmth.

Until footfalls had begun to approach him.

She was coming around the bend.

A familiar face with golden hair.

'Fleur Delacour'

Harry had never interacted with her as much during the first time around. She had also died in the battle of Paris. Or so someone had told him.

She had died in the fires.

But in this world, he'd already saved her from the attack at the world cup. Seeing people alive when they would be dead in the old world was beginning to jar his perception. It was so hard to associate those faces that had been lost, the people that he had mourned for, the people he had buried, with all these vibrant looks.

The innocence of all of them. The lack of conflict that would harden their hearts and minds.

It was beautiful, yet terrifying.

Harry moved next to a tree and leant against it, casually crossing his arms as the girl approached around the bend.

He couldn't resist giving someone a good shock sometimes.

* * *

Fleur was running on autopilot. Her gaze may have been on the ground ahead of her, but she didn't actually see the path that snaked around the giant black lake of Hogwarts. She was still in thought.

Early in the morning she would use the beautiful ground around Beauxbatons to just think and sort through her emotions of the prior day, but now she was having to use the english substitute.

The countryside was beautiful, but the weather was a tad colder than she was comfortable with.

But it served its purpose of giving her mind a rest from others.

A chance to think by herself as the world turned silently.

It was a good as she was going to get, especially with Jacque still trying to hound her. Fleur closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to get her head to focus on anyone but the love struck fool in her year at school.

Opening her eyes again after successfully putting his understanding and pity gaze away, a flicker in her peripheral vision caused her to turn.

"Hey" the boy leaning against the wood said, a smile across his aristocratic features.

Fleur reacted as she always did when people startled her now a days.

By already drawing the wand from the hidden rune at the small of her back. She'd spent a few weeks creating it, meaning she'd have a less obvious way to access her wand in situations where she wouldn't wear a holster.

Of course, she was also stepping into a better stance, as she had been trained to do by her tutors.

In that once instance out of a hundred, the small stone she positioned her foot on gave way, letting her slip and fall backwards into the shallows of the lake.

There was a blur of movement and two arms snaked around her, keeping her back only a few inches from the water.

Now normally Fleur would have instantly cursed the man that did this, having only taken seconds to comprehend a possible threat before acting on it, but his face was so close, and his voice was so clear.

"Easy darling, I got you"

Fleur lost her voice and energy to fight in a second. With just one word the boy had stunned her.

It… it couldn't be?

His eyes were green and powerful, the smirk on his face just as she imagined her saviour's to be.

His hair wasn't the same color, but for a second she was swept away to the moment of the night.

Also, he currently had disregarded his shirt, opting for a simple pair of sweatpants. Muggleborn most likely.

Her brain shifted away from the preconceived prejudice, and finally realised that he had only her health in mind when it came to his actions.

"Thank you" was all she managed.

The mysterious boy lifted her back onto her feet and Fleur stepped away from him once she had a good hold underfoot.

"Not a problem" his smile slipped away, and he stepped back off the path. She finally noticed he was shirtless, his word and face having captured her immediate attention.

Fleur felt a bubble of air in her throat as she stared at his back. He was layered in cuts. Old faded wounds.

Battle scars.

Torture.

A long sleeved black shirt appeared and he slowly pulled it on, turning around to face her with a look of confusion.

"It's nice to meet you miss…"

Fleur almost stumbled as he spoke to her. His voice… no it couldn't be him. This boy was far too young.

"Fleur" she blurted, forcing the red down from her cheeks at how worried it sounded.

She composed herself, "Fleur Delacour"

He nodded, "you're from Beauxbatons. I figured as much. I'd have remembered seeing you in the great hall earlier" he smiled slightly.

Fleur felt her eye twitch.

Another boy swathed in her beauty. He wasn't some kind of drooling idiot as most of them turned out to be, but even with tact she didn't like to be reminded of it.

'Maybe I'd like to see him look helpless' she considered to herself.

The wave of allure she sent his way would get most adults to cheat on their significant others. She had almost made the air thick with her magic, the slight sheen of it obviously radiating off of her.

He tilted his head slightly, and Fleur was ready for the onslaught of compliments. The fawning at her feet.

Even if she wasn't perfect anymore, she knew where they all would fall.

"Don't suppose you'd consider keeping on your run" he chuckled softly, "as interesting as this is, I do prefer my privacy"

Fleur was just able to keep her jaw off the floor.

This was incredible.

He didn't react at _all._

Not a word about how she was the girl for him, and how he'd make her world more magical than it already was. Okay so maybe she was feeling a little vindictive about what should happen, but she at least expected something.

He was being pleasant but didn't do anything beside that.

And to her utter shock, he had already dismissed her and turned away, moving away into the small clearing that he was resting in.

"What's your name?"

The question rung out into the silence of the morning for a few moments. It took a few more for Fleur to realise it had come from her.

He turned to look at her over his shoulder, a short smile the only thing he gave away, "Ares Flamel"

And he crumpled onto the earth, his only attention on the lazy clouds that floated overhead.

Fleur stood there for a minute more, her brain processing what she'd just learnt. Eventually she realised the weirdness of her actions and took of a faster than usual pace.

She had to ask Madame Maxime some questions.

Aside from his immunity to her allure, she wanted to know how Hogwarts had managed to snag the heir to the Flamel family.

* * *

" _Enough of this"_

 _Harry turned his attention away from the blood bath. It was only the arrival of Voldemort would do such a thing._

 _The Dark Lord had only clothed himself in the same jet black robe as he always did, his feet bare, and bald snake like features open for all to see. He drifted in from the darkness above._

 _He had been waiting. Waiting for Harry to finally show his face._

 _Everything about the operation sounded like some kind of ploy to get the infamous scar head to show up._

 _Voldemort wanted to make an example of the greatest thorn in his side._

 _Kind of like a victory send off for himself and his people._

 _Harry however, wasn't about to just roll over and let that happen. Every living being in the room was currently aware of it. No two people hated one another more than Tom Marvolo Riddle, and Harry James Potter._

" _Tom" Harry turned an approaching Death Eater to dust and a spray of blood. Deep within the Ministry, among a chamber forgotten within the department of Mysterious, two sides fought for another chance._

 _The portal had been open through the veil of death._

 _Bodies lay strewn around it. Some were the victims from The Dark Lord's ritual to open the gate. He'd been searching for magic he could use to escape the world he had destroyed. Others were the defenders of their Lord's achievement, intermingled with the bodies of the attackers, Harry's team._

 _They were running._

 _Like cowards._

 _To leave it all behind and escape to another world so they could corrupt it all over again. Because Voldemort did not wish to rule over ashes. Harry had refused to bend backwards and let the monster win. He fought for every inch of ground, every step of the way._

 _And now there was nothing left to give._

" _Before I leave this world, Lord Voldemort will grace you with an honorable death, Harry Potter" he smirked, "you have fought bravely to get this far Harry, but this is the end of the line"_

 _Harry slashed his wand and vanished his sleeves, revealing the intricate ink work that crossed his arms._

" _I couldn't agree more"_

 _Neville had stayed top side with Trevor, probably batting away all the reinforcements that the Death Eaters had called for._

 _Occasionally the building would shake from explosions. Or the stomping of the supersized Trevor. The shakes and thumps had become far less consistent, and Harry assumed the worse._

 _By now his friend would be dead, but his sacrifice wouldn't be in vain._

 _Harry stood before the ultimate target._

 _Ready to step up and kill him._

 _As Voldemort prepared a spell, in that split second, Harry thought of something Ron had told him what felt a lifetime ago._

' _Ron! You've done enough! Next time you could get yourself killed'_

 _Harry had tried to walk away from the uncomfortable conversation, but strong hands on his shoulders and a brilliant grin brought him back._

' _Enough? Mate, at this point I'd go to hell and back for ya! We're in this together Harry, don't you forget it'_

 _The smiling face of Ronald Weasley slowly drifted from his thoughts, and Harry focused all of his attention on Voldemort._

" _...In this together..." he whispered, wishing he could hold the small folded photo in his pocket._

 _But now was not the time to reminisce._

 _Twin spells of sickly green and dark black flew at one another._

 _And the two went at it._

Harry bolted upright as an arm came to rest on his shoulder, a brief instinct shot through him to go for his dagger, but his right hand stopped just by where his belt should be.

'Safe'

Harry blinked.

'He was safe. This was safe. Hogwarts. _Home_.'

Snape was standing over him, a sneer on his face.

Potions class.

That's right. He'd made it to breakfast, eaten with his group, then gone to the dungeons for the first classes that day. The dual period shared with Gryffindor.

"Mister Flamel, regardless of your skill in my classroom, I will not tolerate anyone that would treat it like some kind of _nap_ time" he pondered a few seconds, obviously searching for a punishment.

"You will be serving detention with me, this friday"

Harry cursed in his head but nodded anyway, letting out a quiet yet respectful, "sorry professor"

Snape didn't even nod, he merely swept away and continued to harass the Gryffindor side of the room.

"You alright?"

Harry turned over to regard Malfoy, his permanent lab partner for potions. The two of them constantly tried to outdo one another in the class, seeing as they both brought their own prior skill sets and proficiencies to the subject.

Admittedly Draco's was better, having studied far longer during the war. It was his pass time as he threaded the needle through every spy hunt that Voldemort conducted.

He found solace in the craft.

A way to deal with the stress.

And because of the very stressful line of work that he had gotten into, Malfoy had found an equally high level of skill.

But that didn't mean Harry was far behind. A few years of training surely, but sometimes potions on the battlefield were the only thing standing between life and death. Between bleeding out or withstanding the siege. Dying from frost bite, or remaining standing in the Russian trenches. Many occasions, Harry would have lost friends far sooner if he and Hermione hadn't acted as the unofficial medic for their group.

Eventually it had been just down to Harry, who usually worked in far smaller teams and would supply everyone with anything they needed.

"I'm fine" he idly glanced at the reciple, conforming that they were making just a simple draught of calming for the lesson.

More review work.

Harry looked up to Snape, wondering why the man wasn't already pushing work boundaries in this world.

The effect of Lily Evans… well, Lily Potter, still being alive had some of the most far reaching results. Snape still remained jaded and closed off, but there was still a person behind the rough exterior, not a shattered man dealing with the manipulations of others.

Harry looked to his right, his eyes catching on a now familiar blue pair. Unbeknownst to him, the tiniest of smiles curved his lips.

His deskmate coughed, gaining his attention.

"Let's crack on then" Draco muttered, "the boredom is killing me"

A scuffle from across the room caught Harry's attention for a second, but he didn't turn to look at it. The commotion died down almost as soon as it started so his focus remained on the work with Draco.

Harry snorted, an idle phrase from a muggle commander that he might never meet coming to mind, "boring is always best"

Draco gave him an odd look, but Harry had already returned to his work.

* * *

Daphne had watched Ares slowly slip onto his desk. Snape and everyone else had looked up when the boy's head slammed on to the wooden counter.

He was completely asleep.

Draco had jerked slightly, turning to look at his friend, but Ares remained asleep, his eyes tightly closed.

"...is he okay?" Tracey whispered over Snape calling on the boy and walking towards him.

"I think he should be" Daphne muttered back after a few moments of silence.

Ares Flamel was breaking every expectation in Slytherin house. The mould that had been set for all of them was being bent under his fingers quite liberally.

After only a few days most of the more powerful Slytherin members of house had already formed a solid group around him.

Daphne also associated herself with Nott and Zabini, two others that moved with Ares. Nott knew something. Ares would occasionally speak with him and Malfoy privately.

Adrian Pucey.

He listened to Flamel. Daphne had seen Ares lean in and whisper something to Pucey in the common room a few days ago. The next day Pucey had left a seventh year in smoking tatters in the pit.

The influence of Ares Flamel was spreading, and his promise was beginning to form.

He was the very proof that they no longer had to be consigned to the same dreary path that their forefathers had to.

The power of choice.

Daphne smirked as the boy sleepily sat up once Snape made physical contact with him.

…

Her smile dropped when she saw how his other hand moved. His left hand had instantly traced towards his side, fingers ready to grip a… no, not a wand. Based off his hand he'd be looking for a…

A knife.

Daphne supposed that this information didn't surprise her. Of everyone she had ever met, it wouldn't seem strange for someone like Ares Flamel to carry a knife on him. But she was curious as to why that was his _first_ reaction.

As if any reason he would awake was to be dealing with a threat.

She knew better than to try and approach the boy. He always knew when someone was there. His sense of space and those around him was almost magical, and Daphne had just assumed he used some kind of detection magic.

But when she used one of her mother's more simple diagnostic spells, she didn't pick up a thing.

Green met blue and Daphne refused to admit that her heart skipped a beat.

Ares Flamel was just staring at her, his eyes not leaving hers for the very moment. They were only a few meters from one another, yet she felt like he was right in front of her.

Staring her down as he always did.

Intimidating basta-

He smiled at her.

It was so soft that Daphne barely noticed it. She did notice the heat in her cheeks when Flamel looked away.

"Should I be the one to break it to your dad?"

Daphne forced the red down unsuccessfully and turned on Tracey, an imperial eyebrow arched in skepticism.

"I don't know what your talking about"

Tracey's face turned into a large smirk, which quickly morphed into a massive grin, "you'll have him in a broom closet by the end of the year"

Daphne gaped.

Her?!

Taking Ares Flamel to one of those _hook up_ spots?!

Her mind traced back to the mental images Lily Moon had shared with their group. She'd caught Flamel shirtless after his morning run. Of course the awfully shy girl had been rendered mute as he walked past her into the castle, sliding his shirt on and making for the dungeons.

But she'd seen his form.

 _Impressive_ and _Incredible_ were the descriptive words used. So was terrifying.

Lily had told them of the incredible scarring that covered his entire torso. Daphne had seen it every now and then between classes. A few lines that snaked up to his neck, only slightly visible when he turned his head to look at others.

It gave credit to Lily's image of him, and Daphne couldn't help but wonder if the small Slytherin girl was right.

Tracey took Daphne's lack of response as an affirmation.

"Sweet Merlin Daph, you've really got it bad, don't-"

A jars worth of Flobberworms found itself in her hair a moment later.

Snape assigned both of them detentions for their childish behaviour, saying that they were letting down the expectations of their house.

* * *

She was on her way to Lunch when she spotted the tall and dark haired figure striding through the halls.

"Flamel!" she roared, sweeping away from her friend group to approach him.

Pucey and Morrow, 'sixth years' she idly noted, made to step in front of him. Ares Flamel did not allow them to cut across him, and faced the problem head on.

As he always did.

"Miss Black" he tilted his head slightly, his green eyes were ever so vibrant and for once oddly curious, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Cut the crap" Persephone growled, "I challenge you to a fight" she had all the confidence in the world, because she was ready to one up this prideful git.

Everyone else gave her dubious stares, knowing exactly how well her first attempt went.

Ares seemed to be of the same mindset.

"Again?"

"On one condition" she smirked, feeling that in this moment she had every advantage, "no magic. We fight with our hands. First person to subdue the other wins"

Now while she personally loathed being the daughter of one Sirius Black, someone who all of her more _cultured_ friends referred to negatively, it gave her the grounding to do and say as she pleased.

Many just chalked it up to who her Father and how he obviously would have raised her as such, but she acted the way she did because it got results.

Persephone Black had no plans to become a prim and proper Pureblood lady as the society she belonged to wished she would do so.

If there was anything that she valued from her Father, it was his belief that anyone can be whatever they want. His tone somewhat changed when she was sorted into Slytherin, but Persephone was okay with that.

The clashes she had with Rose had made family meet ups nigh impossible with the Potters. And as she grew older, she ultimately distanced herself from her father. She was ready to play the pureblood game with a few muggle tricks.

Some of those tricks being one of the other things she valued from her dad.

How to fight. A complete and comprehensive set of lessons she had taken in muggle London. She frequently practiced and aimed to improve, so that if she ever found herself with her back to a wall and wand out of hand…

She could at least knock the bastards up before someone got her.

Black's didn't kneel to power so easily.

So Ares Flamel was a sore topic for her naturally. Because she knew she couldn't beat him with magic.

But she could dust him up with a few hits, bruise that handsome face, and damage his pride enough to feel even somewhat satisfied.

"Sounds fun" was all he said, "now? Or after lunch?"

Persephone was taken aback.

He had just accepted.

Instantly.

Without any hesitation.

Everyone around them looked shocked at Ares. A wizard from a noble house willing to physically tangle with the unruly and wild Black Heir?

Unheard of!

Persephone was worried because he had that look in his eye.

The same one he had when she accepted his challenge to a fight with magic… the look of victory, already decided before the fight could begin.

No.

That wasn't possible. He's just some prissy pureblood, too confident to see a formidable opponent before him just because it's a girl.

Black's resolve hardened.

"Now"

She turned on her heel, not bothering to dignify his 'very well' with a response. Her friends formed around her.

Miles Bletchley swooped in next to her, practically demanding some kind of answer as to her actions.

But since he was neither her boyfriend, brother or some kind of wanted relative, he was treated to a few minutes of silence before he gave up.

Their group of 6 walked to the Slytherin common room while Persephone prepared.

She was smart to want the fight now, because if she'd waited for later the news would have spread through Slytherin house. A crowd was nice, but if she won, she won. The only people it mattered between was herself and Flamel.

She'd make this happen.

* * *

 **Best regards to all of you! Thank you for reading! If this is your first time here, please review and follow if you enjoyed! if you didn't, do be kind enough to tell me what was wrong!**

 **UPDATE: there will be a delay between this chapter and the release of the next as I have both exams and a family holiday coming up. ._.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Hey everyone! so I've decided to delay my break until next chapter! I already started with this one and because it answers some of the questions yall have, this also gives me the ability to explain further to anyone who messages me about why certain characters have done certain things. Thanks for reading!**

 **-Freedom.**

* * *

 _Rose's hands were rough, calloused and worn. She knew this was strange. That this was odd and out of place, but in the very moment that the trees swayed and the wind howled, it was normal._

 _There were faces again. People she didn't know, a small group of them that encircled her and the one person she recognised._

 _It was Hermione. Rose was sure of it, but she was older._

 _Far older than what should have been correct._

 _All her dreams did was get stranger._

 _But… this wasn't a dream, was it? Or… no, maybe it was. Or maybe she'd finally gone crazy. The dark mist slowly traced in front of her face and Rose glanced down._

 _A sword was in her grasp, the remnants of what looked like a cup mixed in with the dirt and leaves that coated the forest floor._

 _She recalled some sense of elation and accomplishment, a fulfillment that she wasn't aware of. The people around her cheered in silence, smiles on their faces and arms in the air to celebrate._

 _She had just done a beautiful thing._

 _But then the wind turned vicious. The gentle sway turned to a deafening roar, and from the sky dark shapes passed overhead._

 _In an instant, the people around her reacted in some kind of manor. Strange spells, shields, a few of them started to run._

 _They couldn't fly like she could._

 _They couldn't apart either._

 _Something about this placed forced them there as the objects fell from the sky. It couldn't be avoided._

 _Everything was moving slowly._

 _Desperation had begun to bleed into everything. Haven't they accomplished something good? Hadn't they succeeded?_

 _The others panicked still. They were helpless to the inevitable._

 _But Rose lost focus on them._

 _Hermione had her head turned to the sky, her beautiful long hair trailing around her in the morning light._

 _She was trying to remember her face, even as the brown eyes turned to her, wide and terrified._

 _Instinct took over._

 _Rose took up her wand, the wand that she knew was hers, and with every ounce of power she cast the strongest shield she knew._

 _A spell that she had practiced for hours. One designed to save a people's lives._

 _But it was only meant for one._

 _Hermione was staring at her, even as a sheen of blue covered Rose's vision. She wasn't casting. Why? Why wasn't she casting!?_

 _Oh. Of course..._

 _She was tired._

 _Even as the fire began to appear, blossoming like gigantic flowers around her, Rose could see every detail of Hermione's beautiful face._

 _The face that she had fallen in love with._

 _What?_

 _No. Nothing._

 _She was trying to say something, trying to scream and command the brown haired girl to save herself._

 _But she couldn't manage it._

 _Hermione's look of shock and surprise drifted into one of clarity and acceptance. She looked just like her satisfied self when she had caught Ron and herself up to no good back in First Year._

" _I love you, Har-"_

 _Fire swallowed her, and all Rose felt was pain as the flame consumed them all._

 _In an instant it was over._

 _Rose was on her back and staring at the sky. Ash swirled around her, the trees no longer held green leaves. They no longer held life._

 _The world was bitter, and cold now, once the fire had passed._

 _She forced herself to sit up, even if she was in pain. She could feel it, she could feel the burns across her arms and legs._

 _The shield had held. Barely._

 _Her eyes found the patch of grass where Hermione had once stood._

 _Nothing remained._

 _There was no body to bury. No corpse to bring home to a grieving family. The others were all gone as well. None of them either capable of the spell, or not strong enough to keep themselves safe from the blast._

 _She was gone._

 _The pain and confusion was replaced with sorrow. Tears fell from her eyes as she collapsed again, the dead forest hearing the empty cries of a broken soul._

 _Anger._

 _Hot and raw just like the fire that killed her friend began to stew._

 _It bubbled up into a roar that shook the space around her. Her magic began to lash wildly, scattering the husks of trees, rending the earth and everything around her._

 _From the hole of Hermione's death, hate began to flood her heart, pooling and filling the entire space._

 _It was from that moment she dedicated herself to one singular purpose. She had wanted to end the war before, so did everyone._

 _The war could continue for all she cared._

 _He had to die._

 _He was the one that did this._

 _It was his fault._

 _Anyone who followed him, anyone who took orders from him… they were guilty. They did this. So they would die. Just as he will die._

 _Voldemort would die._

 _Even if it was the last thing that she… he… they did, that monster would-_

* * *

"Woah! Rose, it's just me!"

The startled girl didn't realise she had gone for her wand when Joseph woke her up. She'd been in common room for a few minutes, studying.

For some reason she was finding it hard to stay awake some days, a physical tax taking over her.

She was probably getting sick.

Magical Flu's were so much worse than the muggle ones, but it was a small downside to trade for when she lived in a world filled with _magic_.

"Sorry, Joseph" she gave a small frown, "bad dream. Again"

"I'd say" the boy looked worried, "Hermione sent me up to come look for you after you didn't show up for lunch"

Rose nodded.

Joseph took a few moments of silence as the girl stood up from the armchair she'd fallen asleep in.

It was obvious he was bursting to say something. He asked a few seconds later, after the silence was getting somewhat awkward between them.

"You okay?"

She shrugged slightly, and Joseph's face turned stern.

"Rose, I know I'm not like Ron or Hermione, but I'm just as worried as they are… surely you can see it as well?"

Maybe it was the sincerity in his voice, but Rose rounded on him, green eyes glaring right into him, "see what, exactly? Trust me _Stone_ , I'm very aware of how I'm _feeling_ "

Joseph had taken a step back. Rose never usually got cross or angry with anyone, but the anger she had just spat at him, it was unbelievable.

She didn't seem like the kind of girl to get this…

"What's got you on edge? You're never this angry"

Rose opened her mouth then snapped it shut. A look of frustration and then solemn understanding crossing her features.

In that moment Joseph realised what, and more specifically who it was.

"It's Flamel, isn't it… you talked to him?"

Rose said nothing, but Joseph could tell by the shift of her gaze to the floor that he was indeed correct.

"Damn. What'd he say?" he asked it kindly, and comfortingly, the way a friend should. But had Rose been looking, she would have seen the fear that slashed across his expression.

Had he been outed?

No. She would have done something by now if she knew.

"He…" she hesitated, wondering if she was even sure about her current thoughts. He was almost exactly the way Joseph had described him. However if it was true, that Flamel was self serving as Joseph said, why would he do anything that he did the way he did it.

If he really was a servant of Voldemort, perhaps Hermione was right.

Dumbledore was an old man, but he wasn't senile. He'd have done something about it in the first place! Hell, the Flamel's had their stone destroyed in order to keep it from the Dark Lord, was it honestly possible for their son to turn into his servant?

No.

He was right, she didn't have the full picture.

She was missing something.

And taking a glance up at Joseph, she realised that she had been too trusting. Too sure of Flamel's insincerity because he was a Slytherin.

She would reserve judgement about the Flamel heir.

...and she'd have to keep an eye on Joseph. Ron was already warming up to the boy, so she couldn't honestly ask him to do what she was thinking.

But Hermione would understand.

Hopefully.

Maybe.

Rose groaned and felt her stomach growl.

"He just gave me a load of self pretentious crap. Typical Slytherin. He's just like Malfoy" she turned away from Joseph, missing the dark look in his eyes, "let's go. I'm starving"

Stone didn't say a word, but he followed her out.

* * *

Earlier, Slytherin Common Room

* * *

Somehow everyone now knew what was going on. The Slytherin common room was nothing short of crazy. Persephone Black had challenged Ares Flamel to a _fist_ fight. The physically and magically intimidating fourth year, Ares Flamel.

Daphne had no idea what was going through the girl's head. Because there obviously wasn't any track of sanity.

She had some kind of inkling as to what Flamel was capable off. If his reaction in potions class was anything to go by, the boy was going to be very quick.

If Lily Moon was correct, he also had a very sturdy _frame_.

At times Daphne would believe that he was just too put together to be natural. He seemed artificial, something cobbled together not by nature, but by decision.

Snape didn't seem pleased to not only be missing his lunch, but having to spend any time in the same room as either Flamel or Black.

Daphne couldn't tell which one of them annoyed the man more, but it showed on his features. The distaste was blatantly obvious.

There was respect though. For both of them, it just wasn't as obvious. But Daphne had always been good at getting through the surface, spotting what lurked below.

A personal talent.

Her opinions of Snape were dropped as Flamel stepped into the common room a few minutes after Persephone did.

The girl was corded muscle. While shorter then he was, she still looked to pack a serious punch. In fact, Daphne _knew_ that the girl could do damage.

Marcus Flint had gotten his nose busted when his hands decided to stop listening to any kind of sense. Persephone hadn't even hesitated.

"Kick his ass Seph!" someone yelled down into the pit.

Having come out from her room first, Daphne saw the irritation of the Black heiresses face. She obviously didn't want a crowd, but Draco had the uncanny ability to draw as many people as possible to an event.

With Flamel being such a hot topic for their entire house, his name was enough to spark interest.

But Flamel was just as scary as she had imagined. Black's outfit had shown off her smooth yet powerful physic.

Ares had come out of his room dressed in shorts, small bands of cloth wrapping around his fists in the air.

Wandless magic.

He looked raw and deadly.

No emotion covered his face.

But what got everyone to stay silent was the scarring. Lily Moon had been correct, Ares Flamel was indeed shredded… in both terms.

Daphne honestly felt a little ill from looking at him. The scars were so prominent yet old. She didn't want to imagine how old he must have been when he'd received them….

It obviously was also a similar train of thought for the others around him, because she could clearly see exactly where everyone was staring. This showed through their tracing of his form, following the lines that had been permanently etched into his body.

And now Daphne was given another piece of the puzzle.

This wasn't a skin disease, or the damage from an accident.

It was Methodical work. Obviously with some kind of purpose in mind. The scarring did not follow any random lines or paths, that was clear, but it did appear inefficient… and brutal.

There was no emotion in the boy's face.

None it all.

Even though he knew that a thousand thoughts were going through the heads of every other person in the room. They were guessing and debating. Daphne noticed how a few of those closer to Ares, mainly Nott, Draco, Pucey and Morrow had begun to act a little more… off put.

They knew something about the scars.

Well atleast Nott and Draco did. Their reactions were subtle, but had more of an inclination towards respect. Pucey and Morrow looked more sober, and far more surprised. This was their first time seeing it in its totality, but they knew about the damage.

Seeing really was believing, especially in the wizarding world.

"If you've decided to stop being so dramatic, Mister Flamel" Snape sneered at the boy, his arms crossed and mind made up about what would happen. He gestured to the pit.

Flamel said nothing in the silence, but everyone saw his grin at Snape's words.

Honestly, Daphne couldn't imagine that boy not being the center of attention.

He seemed drawn to the limelight as much as he was good in it.

In a matter of moments he was in the pit, and Daphne couldn't help but swing her head and observe the reaction of his opponent.

"A favour" was all Flamel requested, and the Greengrass heiress held back a smirk at the almost primal growl that erupted from Persephone.

The girl was rightfully pissed.

* * *

Persephone was mad as hell.

She saw red when he demanded the same useless reward, already sure of his victory. In that very moment the Black heir decided to really make this son of a bitch work for it. Even if he might take her down, which she wasn't counting on, she'd do her best to give him something to remember her by.

'The scars were obviously not enough…' she grilled herself, wanting to frown as she thought about his healed wounds.

'He would have been so young…'

Persephone Black knew everything about scars inside and out. Her father had accumulated a plethora of them, and she had a faint few herself, mostly in places she could conceal, but a very small one on her ribs.

It was from her mother.

Before she died.

"Begin whenever you feel like" Snape dryly suggested, already slipping into disinterest.

While Persephone prefered to ignore the drivel of Severus Snape, she'd felt the need to take heed of this one, especially since Ares gave her no time to think upon scars, her mother, or his condition.

In fact, the boy was already approaching her, fists raised like a boxer.

He was going to beat her through shear strength… Persephone scoffed internally as he drew nearer.

Obviously no know told him about flint.

It took all of her motor skills and attention to shift backwards, his foot passing right in front of her face.

Eyes wide and startled, the Black heiress shuffled back a step, her own guard coming up tighter and focused.

That had been unexpected.

'Sweet Merlin he's fast'

But Ares did not stop the assault there, as fists came flying in towards her.

Persephone was very glad that she didn't skirt her defensive training. She was going to weather this storm, and then hopefully knock it on its ass.

* * *

Daphne was in awe of what Flamel could do. He was lightning quick for starters, and when he struck he fell like thunder.

Persephone was starting to build up a fair amount of bruises, and she'd only clipped Ares once.

Once!

After the first minute of solid punishment before the Flamel heir backed off, people began to realise that he had been toying with the girl.

He was up to snuff, physically. He could fight far better than most of them could. Persephone had a reputation of being one of the best physical fighters in Hogwarts... and now it was getting trodden on in a matter of moments.

To make matters worse, Daphne could actively tell that Ares was playing with his food. In fact, she wouldn't have been surprised if everyone could tell it.

Flamel was really making a point here, one that most were slowly starting to get. Especially if the last two times didn't sink in.

'I'm better than you are' Daphne was sure some people would still see this as a challenge, but objectively everyone had to admit that they didn't stand a chance against this… this… warmachine!

Like a perfectly trained warrior, all bundled up into…

And Daphne's mind had a horrible epiphany as Persephone Black was forced into a choke hold.

That's exactly what he was.

A warrior.

An incredibly powerful one, but a warrior nonetheless. He'd come here to battle and conquer. And that was what he was doing, unchecked and unmonitored.

Daphne would begin to make her own inquiries later, but for now decided to enjoy the look on Persephone's face.

She'd never seen the girl that red before. Atleast, never from embarrassment. The lack of oxygen combined with losing yet again must be frustrating.

Ares was speaking to her, but it obviously wasn't helping, as the girl struggled in his tight grip.

* * *

"Yield, or pass out" were the only words coming into her ears as her oxygen supply finally cut out.

He'd pulled them to the floor once he'd finished hammering her, and with his legs wrapped around her waist, and a thick bicep tucked under her neck…

Well she knew it wasn't looking good. He was clinging to her back like a parasite, rendering her legs completely useless in the fight.

One of her hands was holding one of his hands at bay, while her other hand tried to pry the steel like arm from her neck. She was beginning to get desperate.

Especially with the black now encroaching on her vision.

"Never" she hissed, trying to think of something.

The grip tightened and her eyes started to flutter.

No.

Not like this.

She refused to not have anything to remember her by… she'd hardly touched him! She'd glanced his ribcage, and he'd dished out a beating on her, forcing her to slink back into a defensive stance.

Right until he'd just walked at her again, with no regard for any possible counter attack, and slammed her to the ground.

Mustering together her final effort, the proverbial spit in his face, Persephone released the hand she held down, the one she had kept trapped in order to prevent him from wailing on her face, and swung right up.

She connected with something, and was mildly disappointed that the arm around her neck didn't loosen.

If anything it tightened.

Persephone Black passed out with a frown on her face, not knowing that her last effort strike had managed to break Ares Flamel's nose.

She'd have quite the grin on her face once one of her friends would inform her.

* * *

Adrian wasn't going to lie.

He felt the jolt of satisfaction at the hail mary from Black. She had really gotten Flamel good, and his nose was bleeding as vibrant red proof. She'd managed to do what he privately hoped for.

Ares released the unconscious girl, stood up, and let the blood flow freely.

Hector shifted awkwardly next to Pucey. He saw too much madness in Slytherin's new top dog. Flamel didn't seem to notice that he'd been injured at all.

The blood had stained the front of his entire body, a macabre display.

But the pit had seen worse.

Far worse.

"Kinda handy if you ask me" Rookwood chimed in, "knowing fighting and all"

Hector gave the other boy an incredulous stare. Pucey also looked at the now flushed Daniel.

"What? If you get into a fight and you lost your wand, what would ya do?"

Both boys said nothing.

"Exactly. It's always handy having an ace up your sleeve" Daniel said proudly, crossing his arms and looking back towards the pit.

Hector said nothing.

Adrian burst out laughing, much to the surprise of the more riveted audience members surrounding them.

* * *

"Bloody hell" Nott muttered as Ares's nose exploded in a shower of blood.

"You can say that again" Draco scoffed, watching as the Black heiress finally submitted. Both the boys had been partially responsible for making sure there was a much larger turn out for this little fight.

Both were the grapevine that connected the lower and upper years of Slytherin house. Nott and Malfoy both came from families that held similar ideals and motivations, and the same allies.

The information source for any Slytherin. You need it, they know it.

"He still won"

Both the boys turned towards the newcomer. Daphne Greengrass inserted herself between the two boys with a coy smile on her face.

"As expected" Nott snorted, giving her a friendly grin, "you didn't think he'd lose, did ya?"

Draco didn't say anything, a cool layer of professionalism slipping over his features as he turned away from Daphne.

Persephone was being taken from the pit to the hospital wing by her friends. Ares had used a spell to stop the flow of blood, and was apparently manually fixing his nose.

He couldn't look at Daphne right now. Not after the train. It was hard to even be in her presence.

His time as a spy during the war had been strenuous, but being a passer of information, and a damn good one at that, had really kept him separate from the action.

Lucius, his father, had made sure his precious son wouldn't have to be on the frontlines, like he was. So while his dad had been fighting, Draco was seated with the other 'children' serving the whims of the Dark Lord.

Until that monster had sent his dad out on a suicide mission. Lucius Malfoy had been torn apart by werewolves, trying to recruit them to the cause.

And when the news got back, there was no offered condolences, no signs of sympathy. No, instead of being allowed to mourn, his mother was tortured, and he himself was branded.

Instantly thrust into active service.

Draco had realised that he didn't care. The Dark Lord had no compulsions to see you to your goals, unless it benefitted him.

He'd been a sure-fire and bigoted kid, unwilling to make any distinction between good and evil, so he'd just followed the line his father traced for him.

When that line ended in his father's blood… well Draco turned sides. Severus, being his Godfather, put him in contact with the allied forces and gotten him in touch with Harry.

A boy he used to be at extreme odds with during school.

But he could still remember the day when Potter met him at an old church in the husk of London.

He'd changed. Potter was a soldier now. A killer. He'd heard the stories, but seeing the dirty hair, blank eyes and wore torn outfit really sealed the deal for Draco.

That and the knife to his throat.

Harry had made it abundantly clear in the past that he'd do anything to kill Voldemort. Sometimes Draco wasn't even sure if Potter even cared about winning the war, just that he wanted revenge.

Of course he'd heard about the Weasley deaths… and Granger.

He'd been in the command room when the fire bombing was ordered. That was a conversation that hadn't gone done so well with Harry.

Well, he was Ares now.

The mysterious, powerful and handsome Ares. Temperamental as well, but no one would ever say it to his face. He was here for the mission.

The plan.

They had realised that not only could they save the future by correcting the past, Draco himself could right the many wrongs he'd committed as a kid.

But in his heart he knew that he was the only one who would do as such.

Ares… Harry… he was here for one reason and one reason only. Seeing him approach Draco, covered in blood, nose still healing only sealed the understanding.

He didn't care about anything.

Draco didn't wince as he heard the loud crunch of the boy's nose resetting.

Ares looked between all three of them, a slight grin subsiding from his features. He always loved fighting. The grittier and dirtier, the better.

"Lunch?"

Draco couldn't help but smile as Nott and Daphne blanched ever so slightly at how blunt and simple Harry would always be.

He found it refreshing.

Honestly.

* * *

"Merlin's balls, look at him!" Ron scoffed over the load of food in his mouth, "someone really put him through the ringer!"

Rose turned to look, and she finally settled on the destroyed nose of Ares. That really looked like it hurt.

"Trouble in paradise then?" Hermione looked wearily at her friends, "can't you see that he might not be some super scary…" she looked around before whispering the next words, " _death eater_ "

Rose looked towards her but didn't say anything as Ron just scoffed.

"He's probably having trouble keeping them in line, wanker" the ginger boy growled, and Rose knew he was thinking about how Ares stunned him effortlessly in the tower.

She had explained to him what had happened… but she had failed to mention to either Hermione or Ron what she'd talked to the Slytherin boy about.

Or, that she had talked to him at all.

"No. He's already got them _in line_ " Joseph spoke up from beside Ron as he played with his mashed potatoes, "he's just getting them into a structure now…"

In an odd moment of annoyance, Rose challenged his statement, "and you know this how?"

All of them looked to the girl, who normally would be for any evidence which could support Flamel being evil.

Joseph said nothing, merely looking back to his food with a disappointed sigh.

"Thank you, Rose! I've been saying it the entire time, you really don't know if he's evil! So don't go throwing around the suggestion that he's a dark wizard" Hermione grumbled, "it's innocent until proven guilty, remember?"

Rose had nothing to add. No comments, no statements, and no challenges to what Hermione had just laid down.

She wasn't even sure Flamel was a dark wizard anymore. He was up to something, for sure, but maybe he wasn't in line with those who would see her dead.

His voice rattled around in her head, and she couldn't make heads or tails of how she currently felt about him.

But the same words, the same question resonated again and again.

" _Who do you think gave me those scars?"_

Rose kept coming up with the same answer… and the more she thought about it the more she really did not like it.

Joseph polished off his plate and gave them all a "have a nice day" wandering off to his class.

Hermione squawked slightly, realising that she wasn't going to be early to the class she shared with Joseph.

Rose and Ron now remained at the table.

Conspiratorially, Ron leaned across the table slightly, whispering towards Rose, "you okay? Flamel didn't mess with your head did he?"

Rose grinned at her best friend, "I'd like to see him try"

But there was some false bravado there. Flamel was more skilled and powerful than Rose had initially assumed.

The wandless magic was just showing off… but the body binding, the silent casting… maybe he wasn't as harmless as she'd come to think. Maybe Joseph had a point.

Ron was picking up on her distressed thoughts but didn't say anything.

He frowned.

Movement from the Slytherin table got his attention.

'...maybe…'

A head of blond hair was leaving the great hall unaccompanied.

"Rose, I'll catch up with you, I, uh, left something in the dorm!" Ron hurried to explain as he stood up, stuffed a bread roll in his mouth and stalked off.

Rose just grumbled a reply and turned to look at the Slytherin table.

Green eyes stared back at her and she looked away in discomfort.

* * *

"Thanks Draco" was all Ares said as the Malfoy heir wandered away from the table. He didn't even look up at the boy.

Daphne couldn't tear her eyes away from his bandaged nose. It was red and clotted on the bridge, but all it really did was accent his already handsome features.

But Daphne was never just looking for handsome. The aristocracy of the wizarding world was filled with good looking witches and wizards. There were plenty for her to choose from, and most only ended up disappointing her.

Any potential suitor would approach her, speak whatever drivel and nonsense they wanted to, and Daphne would take them apart in a few seconds, figuring out exactly what they were there for and why.

Marriage.

Sex.

Money.

Influence.

Was it any surprise then that Daphne would always have interest in the people that didn't approach her for such things.

While she wouldn't have much of a problem deciphering those that would prefer to be out of the limelight, Ares Flamel was that one in ten thousand. Tracey's teasing only made it worse and worse, but he was at least a face she could imagine being happy to wake up next to.

He was cold, collected and honestly calm at most times. But there also was his brutality, the anger of a powerful wizard, a feeling indescribable to anything else.

He could make you feel like an ant before him, or he could make you feel as if you'd accomplished the greatest task in the universe.

But he did care. Flamel must have been so sure of himself, that no one had figured him out, that he couldn't be decrypted by anyone. Daphne knew better.

The truth was in his eyes, the way he analysed people, the way he would just stare, nothing on his face.

For brief moments, there would be emotion. A lip curling at certain actions, even those from Gryffindor, or jokes made at the expense of others.

Sometimes he seemed all grown up, but at the same time, was nostalgic towards a life he was experiencing first hand.

He was so strange. And of course, she still had her questions as to what he was up to, and what he was doing at those specific meetings.

Daphne would find out. Eventually.

Other boys only took a few weeks until she had them figured out… Flamel was shaping up to be a few years worth of understanding.

"You're right, she does have a crush on him!"

Daphne snapped her head over to the obviously whispering Pansy Parkinson.

Tracey, Millicent, and Lily all looked innocent as the Greengrass heir glared down at the other girl.

* * *

Pucey ignored the clamoring and noise that had erupted at the far end of the table.

"What did your father say?" Hector finally asked once he'd finished peering down the length of the table. Pucey was looking towards Daniel, the one who was being asked the question.

"Nothing specific… but that I should keep an eye on him" Daniel mumbled around his cold cut sandwich.

Pucey frowned.

They'd decided to see if any of the… more _intense_ , pureblood followers were aware of Slytherin's new rising influence.

The Dark Lord, if he was still alive, wouldn't be very happy if they all sat around and let some up and coming runt take control.

Especially of his own powerbase.

But Pucey was disillusioned of the idea that Flamel was even a runt to begin with. Because saying the boy was powerful felt like an understatement. Even the teachers were beginning to realise how creative, intelligent and _raw_ the boy was. He'd obviously had in depth teaching before, and most professors were giving the boy much more complex material to study and work with.

Adrian had heard the stories of the Dark Lord. Of cruelty, death, brutality and a lack of any empathy.

While Ares was a rough kid, he wasn't a monster. He'd had ample opportunity to show that he was. Both in public, and in private.

By all intents and purposes, if the boy had been placed in another house he'd be considered the next Dumbledore…

But he was a Slytherin, and thusly considered a new threat.

"Incoming!" Hector ducked back, and Pucey got an eye full of mutton.

"What in the name of-"

That little skirmish on the other side of the Slytherin table had turned into food flinging. Adrian was able to wipe the ham from his eyes in time to see a pork chop go flying across the great hall.

It smacked soundly into the back of a sixth year Gryffindor's head.

There was utter silence for a moment.

And from it, came the most surreal declaration Adrian had ever seen.

Daniel stood, a wing in one hand, and a handful of mash in the other. Every eye trained to that boy in that moment.

A crazy grin settled on the boys face.

"Food fight!"

The great hall erupted into chaos

* * *

Draco idly wondered if he had missed some kind of important announcement from the great hall.

It was obvious something had happened, as evidenced by the large amount of noise that suddenly echoed down the corridor.

Pure chaos it seemed.

Draco turned around and was immediately distracted by what seemed to be a more recent addition.

He had picked up a tail.

The head of red hair told him all he needed to know. It also explained why it seemed to be an amateur following him.

Probably because Ronald Weasley had no knowledge or any training in the fine art of tracking and spying.

But he was relatively far away, therefore it was possible to lose him. Draco aimed to do as such.

However, after 10 minutes of climbing stairs, running through corridors and ducking through passageways, Draco turned to see a glimpse of red hair.

Whatever technique Weasley was using made him obvious, but it sure was effective. Back in his sixth and seventh year at Hogwarts, if Draco had not wanted someone following him, they wouldn't have been able to.

It seemed as if something else was at work here.

So Draco aimed to confront Ron on it.

He merely turned around fully, crossed his arms and said, "what do you want Weasley?"

The red head stepped out into plain view a few seconds later.

Draco allowed the boy to approach, carefully noting the glint of anger in the boy's eye. This was going to be an interesting conversation. And a strain on his newly found patience. Unfortunately he couldn't hex the ginger. He, among the others, was precious to Ha… Ares.

"What did Flamel do to Rose, you poncey git"

Blunt, unsophisticated, and straight to the point, qualities that showed this Ron Weasley to be the same as the one he had known in a life that seemed so long ago.

He wouldn't hex him.

Much.

* * *

As the food war exploded into existence, Harry took his careful time to exit the space calmly.

He stood, cast a powerful shield charm, slung his bag over his shoulder and idly walked through the chaos.

Fred and George had somehow spearheaded an attack into Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw territory. Terry Boot was getting very creative with the sponge dishes, and Harry was blessed to be able to witness a first year get consumed by the spongy monster. All harmless fun really.

Pucey, Morrow and Rookwood had set up some kind of catapult, and managed to smear a whole group of Beauxbatons boys with mashed potatoes.

At their expense, a selection of well defended Durmstrang students laughed… only to be covered in an extra helping of Worcestershire sauce, courtesy of the Gryffindor table.

Harry ignored any projectile or object that clashed into his shield, instead turning his attention to the staff table.

McGonagall looked like she was about to explode. Harry expected nothing less.

"For Hufflepuff!"

The badgers were assaulting the Slytherin table.

Snape was already wading into the groups of students that had been forming, throwing detentions left and right.

Harry let out a grin when a bowl of spinach landed on his head.

The man's fury reached a peak, and he fell to the level of the students, wand flicking food everywhere.

And now that a teacher had joined the fray, large amounts of pudding and meat flying in every direction, Harry knew it would be awhile until this settled down. Unless of course...

Harry looked towards Dumbledore, who not only was already looking at him, but had dispatched the other teachers to 'assist' in the fighting.

Flitwick made such a small target that no one could predict an attack against him. It also seemed he was rallying the Ravenclaws for a final push.

Only McGonagall seemed serious.

Her patience snapped after a second roast chicken rebounded off her back.

Dumbledore smiled serenely at Harry, the boy only nodding back in return. Once the mayhem had reached a peak, Albus would sort it out.

It wasn't like the headmaster wasn't having any fun.

Harry could clearly see the small peas that the old man was subtly banishing from his plate into the mayhem.

The time traveler flicked his wand at one pea very subtly. A pea the size of a large boulder bowled down the Slytherin table knocking people aside in its path.

The fighting paused for a moment.

Harry and Dumbledore stared at each other, one in smug pride, the other in mild surprise.

Dumbledore banished another pea from his plate, sending it flying into the side of Severus Snape's head.

The potions master reacted without thinking and the war returned.

Harry hadn't missed the twinkling of Dumbledore's eyes.

All in good fun.

There were going to be a LOT of detentions after today.

* * *

 _Dear Sirius,_

No.

 _Dear Father._

He'd freak out.

 _Dear Dad._

Too close.

Persephone sighed before slumping forwards on her desk. This was humiliating. She didn't think much about what she needed to do, but now that she was actually writing the letter, she found it harder to do every moment that passed.

None of the words in her head sounded right.

She was supposed to tell her father what exactly? That she was finally willing to come home, that she realised her beliefs were wrong and she needed him… just so she could pay Ares Flamel back.

His favour.

That was the cause of this. She owed him now that he'd won… twice. This was one of two things she'd be forced to do.

And while her Father might be known for his negative traits among Pureblood society, Persephone Black wanted to be known for her strength and honor.

She had to do this.

Persephone raged in her mind. So many things were bugging her about Ares Flamel that she honestly just wanted to throttle the boy. Bastard. He'd probably just flip her around and then tie her into a bow.

Git.

How did Flamel even know about Grimmauld Place? The Black Family hadn't ever publicly announced their ancestral home, let alone invite an unknown heir to it.

The house was in a constant state of disrepair.

And now Flamel wanted access to the home, just a short visit.

Bloody confusing if you asked her.

But her honor came first…

Always first.

 _Dad, I know this is going to come as a surprise..._

* * *

Now browsing through the Library for books on her first potions assignment Hermione had spent a very weird class next to Joseph. But it wasn't just the obviously bad mood that the blonde boy was in.

No. The rest of the class seemed like they were in some kind of over excited, yet sour mood.

It wasn't like anything crazy could have happened during lunch. Even though everyone else, including the professor, had arrived late, it was normal.

Ish.

But now that she was back to browsing tombs in the library, Hermione felt a sense of normality return to her.

Knowledge was represented by all the parchment and ink bound together before her.

The Hogwarts library was the kind of place that one could lose itself, where-

"Miss Granger"

That was not a voice she was happy to be hearing, especially this close to herself. She felt a small tremble shoot down her spine as she had to look up towards Ares Flamel.

It would be easy to fear him. But that would make her a hypocrite, especially if Rose and Ron found out. She could talk the talk about how not everyone was naturally 'evil', but those green simmering eyes…

He certainly wasn't a picture perfect good boy by any preconceived standards.

Hermione settled for delayed confrontation.

"I don't believe a library is the place for proper introductions" and made a move to leave. Only to be distracted by the binding of a book with a deep black cover. Flamel had presented it to her, casually with his other hand in pocket.

"I've heard enough about Rose Potter and her compatriots" he smiled, it was softer than Hermione pictured it would be, far more subtle.

"And as you're ready to run for the hills from the _big n' scary_ Flamel heir, you've heard about me to"

Hermione frowned, but didn't say anything.

She didn't want to talk to him. Especially in this setting. Not the kind of place for a first time introduction with someone your best friend was determined to prove malicious.

"The follow up to the book I gave you at Diagon. Would it be possible to borrow the first one from you?"

Hermione tried to speak, but she was fairly aware of her mouth failing to produce any human language.

Flamel had continued to smile softly.

Hermione let an errant thought into her head, one that would wind up to something far more powerful later, but the seeds had been sown.

'He's not so bad' she concluded, nodding her affirmation as she took the book from him.

"You can-"

"Could I-"

They both paused as the other started talking at the same time they did.

"You first" Ares conceded, the same tiny smile still on his features, his eyes now filled with mirth.

"Breakfast" Hermione managed, "at the great hall tomorrow. I'll have your book"

"Thank you Miss Granger" he nodded, seeming to sweep away for a moment. He hesitated however, and frowned in confusion.

"If I may bother you with one more thing..." his now free hand sunk into his other pocket, searching for something.

Hermione waited with bated breath. The situation seemed more serious than it should be. This was probably the desired effect Ares wished his presence had.

If so, Hermione was doing her best to act natural.

A small folded piece of paper was handed to her.

"If that could find its way to Miss Potter, I'd be grateful if only her and her _closest_ of friends saw it"

He smiled, nodded, and turned away.

Hermione watched him vanish around the corner of one of the bookshelves. She hesitated almost a second before she whipped the note open.

...what was this?

* * *

James nodded at Sirius just as the man vanished into the floo network. After the strangest of letters from Persephone, his best friends wayward Daughter, Sirius needed a good afternoon to think together a response.

Poor bastard never knew what to do when his daughter came up. He was such an awkward father for someone who was so outgoing, but friends and family have always been different.

Especially if it's your first time creating a family.

Sirius had been beset with bad luck since the first moment he laid eyes on his 'wife to be'. A pretty face, a sob story, and Sirius was over the moon.

Eventually it turned out the same as any other marriage based like this. A settlement, a very messy divorce, and a daughter unloved by the mother, hateful of the father.

A complete fucking mess.

So of course while James couldn't understand what Sirius was going through, being happily married and all, he could respect the need for space and time to figure out his emotions.

That gave him plenty of time to do some digging.

And while he was obsessed with figuring out who this new wizard on the block was, James also knew that he could indeed be digging his own grave.

Dragging Sirius into this… it would be too much. They'd already been through plenty as kids, teens and now adults… he wouldn't risk his friends life so callously.

Especially because Sirius would jump at any chance to help James.

The Potter heir couldn't have that.

But he also wasn't going into this without a plan. Even with a spectre like Hargreave coming in to clean up the entire case, James knew that a few items would still be in storage, awaiting transport.

So his proof was still in the building, and possibly more. Word had been getting out that Unspeakables were seen taking in evidence down into the Department of Mysteries. Specialised branches of each department had entire cases removed, even a few members.

James remembered how Rebecca from the International Relief Program had been dragged unconscious to the bottom floor of the ministry.

Her most recent memo to gain attention, attached to the noticeboard and even managed to find its way to James's desk had been summarily destroyed.

She'd reported on the day of the World Cup a strange magical anomaly… some kind of Nexus of raw magical power.

A singularity.

One that had vanished as abruptly as it had appeared.

James could still remember that, even as the girl had been obviously memory charmed and released the next day.

She'd be on medical leave until the charm stabilised.

Everyone knew that sometimes things like this would happen, that the D.O.M would deem something far too dangerous in the hands of all magical kind.

But James had never seen the department act this serious. In fact, he'd never even heard of them as being this bad.

That's why the eggs smelt rotten to him, because it appeared rotten. Many even agreed with him. Frank had called it 'fishier than sushi'

So James was going to do the greatest thing a curious man could do, investigate.

He'd dart through his office and take the first lift down into the department of Mysteries… from there, he'd wing it.

Frank had managed to get the department clearance time, when all the evidence would be considered contained and ready to travel to the ICW Security headquarters, so James was on the clock.

Only having 45 minutes until all the evidence was either destroyed or effectively destroyed by being chained in a chest beneath the ocean didn't give a man much time to plan.

Getting into the lift had been nerve wracking.

Arriving to have 15 wands pointing at his face?

James would have loved to have said he'd had worse odds before, but getting a stunner between the eyes really did impede one's speech.

* * *

"I honestly didn't think you'd show up"

Ares emerged from the shadows, a light grin on his face.

"You little letter wasn't very informative"

 _Under the Stars, 11:30_

He had of course meant the astronomy tower, and only Ron would have known what he meant by the note. Flamel was talking about the location for their first meeting, which would serve for their next one.

So Rose had departed the common room at 11:15, making her way to the Astronomy tower under the cover of darkness and cloak.

To meet with Ares Flamel.

It was almost surreal.

Rose's tone was icy, because she ultimately didn't trust the boy before her, but was willing to try now. She was willing to see what this was all about, and what he was going to say.

"Why am I here?"

Ares tilted his head, "Joseph Stone is a spy, he's been gathering information on not only the defenses of the school but his primary target"

Rose felt a little sick to the stomach.

"That's… that's hard to believe"

Ares smiled, "let me guess, he's already informed you to stay away from me, not to talk to me alone, and has slowly but surely been gaining your trust?"

The feeling in her stomach was slowly beginning to build.

In the back of her head, she felt he was telling at least some semblance of the truth. Joseph wasn't fake at all… in fact it seemed at times that he was too real. That there was something wrong, because all he did was show a perfect-

A red bolt slammed into the side of Ares's chest, knocking the boy to the ground.

"Fucking bastard"

Rose reached for her own wand but a body binding curse tagged her. Completely locked up, she fell to the floor.

'Not again' she thought idly, but was still surprised when Joseph stepped up over her, sliding into her field of vision.

"You just had to go and talk to him… I mean, eventually you would, but it shouldn't have been this early" Joseph muttered, his wand twirling between his fingers, "you know if Granger didn't tell me about this meeting I would have missed it completely"

Rose felt magic unlock her jaw, and knew that Stone was giving her permission to talk.

"Is he right?"

Stone's eyes went manic, "right about what? Me being a spy? An agent for another?"

Rose came to her own conclusions. It was still very disturbing to see a boy she thought she knew twist into this monster. He'd been so… convincing.

"He probably set this up to twist your head, to adjust it as he's done to all the others. He ruined my entrance into Slytherin! I had been building that connection for months! All for nothing!"

Stone grinned, "but I beat him! I did it! I got into _Gryffindor!_ Deep behind enemy lines" Joseph looked up to the roof of the astronomy tower, "I was always good at that"

He looked at the still form of Ares, a wicked grin on his face.

"But he can't stop the inevitable. As much as he wants to, power shall be restored to those that deserve it. He thought cornering me on the train was enough to reveal my allegiance… he should have known I was better than that!"

He twisted quickly, crouching in front of Rose and pulling a blade out.

"I'll never get a better chance than this. There are enough witnesses who saw you leave the tower. Hermione will report who sent the letter, and people will conclude it was Flamel. The _sheep_ in Slytherin will cut ties with this monster once you're dead" his eyes turned soft now, "it's nothing personal Rose…"

This was it.

She was going to die here.

Her life had finally run its course.

"No one saw you leave the tower Joseph. You received no letter and no one was aware of what you're up to"

Stone froze, and Rose felt a glimmer of hope.

That hope brightened when the knife disappeared in Stone's hands.

Ares was going to take him down! And then expose him! This was all his plan, to get Joseph alone and try and get some kind of confession out of him.

Maybe he really was a good-

* * *

"James Potter"

James had woken up a few times before to an ominous voice announcing his name. Lily's father on their first family dinner… scary bloke. Lily's sister… and now, if he was correct, Joseph Hargreave.

"Director Hargreave" James sat up a little straighter in his chair. They were within a barren room, nothing inside of it. Just grey walls and a grey ceiling.

No other chair except for his.

No doors, no table, nothing.

This wasn't a very comfortable place to be, but James was pretty sure this wasn't going to be comfortable.

"Imagine my surprise when one of England's best decided it was his priority to investigate into my actions"

"Unimaginable" James joked, smiling as the man glowered at him, "don't give me the same crap you give others Hargreave"

Beedy blue eyes narrowed at him.

"And why shouldn't I?"

James was playing blind here, and he didn't know what was at stake, nor did he know what cards he had, but he was willing to be truthful to this man.

Partially.

"I'm not interested in any laws you've probably broken to do what you do Hargreave" James noticed the man tense up slightly, "because all I want is our mystery wizard… the one causing all the chaos"

Hargreave went silent.

"You need to understand Director, he's-"

"A Potter or a thief, yes, we've already seen the Sacclarius" Hargreave went back to contemplative as James twitched slightly in his chair.

They really were a few steps ahead.

Damn spooks.

"I've read all the files on you, Mister Potter… you seem to possess the subtlety that your partner lacks" the man looked like he was swallowing something painful, "and as much as I hate using resources outside my own department, I feel I need better eyes and ears in London"

Hargreave idly drummed his fingers behind his back, staring at a random point on the floor.

"To be perfectly honest Mister Potter, I'm just as concerned as to the identity of this wizard as you are… and seeing as you have some personal interest invested in this… I'd like you to be in contact with my organisation"

This was the dip into the pond, where all the nasty things happened, and James knew it.

Hargreave was offering a truce that didn't end in James's immediate execution. Being the father of the Girl Who Lived was only a footnote consideration to a man like Hargreave. He wanted results, not famous people, and it would be remiss to not state that James Potter was an excellent Auror and detective.

"You give me what I need to know, and I'll let you know what I know" James said lamely, but still willing to work with the man.

"Good" Hargreave smiled, "our first clue is that he might be a time traveller"

And that was it, James learning about how deep the rabbit hole went.

* * *

A blanket of red splashed across her face. Joseph's eyes were wide and expressive, even as they looked down towards the blade that protruded from his chest.

"Shit" the boy muttered, falling back into the waiting hands of Ares Flamel. Rose collapsed back against the floor, the blood slowly dripping down from her face. She pushed herself all the way back until her back collided with the wall.

Her chest was heaving.

"Wh…" she stuttered, eventually losing her voice as Joseph slumped down to the ground, his breath laboured.

"You…" some blood dribbled up from his mouth, but his eyes were on Flamel only, "I didn't think you'd actually…"

Ares said nothing, still holding the dying boy off the ground, cradling his head with some semblance of care.

Joseph looked away from him, to stare at Rose for a moment.

The Potter girl didn't know what to do, and remained frozen with his blood on her face. Eventually Joseph turned back up to Ares.

"I'm scared"

"I know" Ares replied.

"It's… It's cold"

"Rest now" Flamel held him closer, uncaring of the blood that seeped onto him, staining his clothes.

Joseph eventually stopped moving, and as soon as he lay still, chest no longer rising, Ares let the body go, placing it on the floor.

Rose finally found some of her voice as Ares began to search the body. Her thoughts were too loud, so she retreated from thinking, and just focused on what needed to be said.

"You killed him"

Ares said nothing.

"You murdered him!"

He remained silent. Something that ignited a white hot fury in Rose. He was too callous about this, and it irritated her.

"Say something!" she snapped, tears coming to her face as control was slowly coming back to her. While the shock was wearing off, she had to deal with the other onslaught of emotions hitting her.

Joseph, sweet Joseph had turned all… angry. He'd been something she'd never assume he was capable of and he'd used her as a way to lure out Flamel. He was going to kill her! Then he was going to frame Flamel… because he had been a bad guy...

And he got a knife in his back… from the same boy he'd tried to destroy.

"Please" Rose whispered again, releasing that she was so far out of her depth that she couldn't even begin to comprehend the choices and actions made by the people around her.

This was a nightmare.

This was…

"He was an agent. A spy. One that I've come across before" Ares stood up, inspecting the small papers that had been in Joseph's pockets.

'That's… that's why they knew each other. He… they _were_ enemies'

Rose felt sick looking at the corpse, but Flamel casually sifting through the boy's stuff made her stomach squirm.

He was used to this. He'd done this before, like it was standard procedure.

"Why…"

"He no longer served his purpose" Ares answered immediately. Automatically. How he'd been trained to do so.

"Who… who are you?" Rose needed to know.

He owed her that much.

Especially after tonight. How he'd taken a life to save both of them. She knew he was just doing it to keep himself alive, but he had intervened before Stone, or whatever his real name was, had managed to do anything.

Flamel looked to her.

"The storm" he said simply.

"You're a monster" Rose hissed, finding it the only way to express her sudden and very violent distaste for the boy. Even though she agreed… the evil people in this world… they didn't deserve chances.

Or attacks like at the World Cup would be daily.

Ares and the masked wizard had that in common at least, they were both willing to do whatever it takes.

Rose couldn't understand that she agreed with them, and so she feared this callousness they held towards death.

"I suppose I am" Flamel's wand slipped into his hand, "but you won't have to worry about that"

Rose thought she was about to die. She thought that perhaps she'd just become some other kind of loose end, one that this _murderer_ would rectify.

Instead, she felt a small glimmer of shock when his only word was, "obliviate!"

Of course, after a second she didn't remember any of it. And couldn't, no matter how hard she tried.

Ares Flamel extracted the memory from her head in complete silence, all the while altering and creating the replacement memory.

Rose Potter would be the horrible witness to an apparent suicide.

Joseph Stone would have flung himself from the Astronomy tower, falling right past the window she was studying in front of.

Once the body hit the ground, the wounds would be unrecognizable. No one would be looking for a stab wound.

While the memory began to set in like concrete, Ares returned to cleaning the scene of the 'unfortunate accident'.

Everything had to be perfect.

He pocketed the small coin he had lifted from Joseph's pocket.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

Thankfully, he'd managed to engineer a situation where Joseph had to leave the Gryffindor tower in order to investigate.

'Joseph' had obviously realised it was a trap once he'd revealed himself, but he thought he could bend the situation to his own needs if he sprung the trap on his terms.

He was going to say too much eventually. He was going to tell Rose the truth, the one thing that needed to stay hidden, something the girl wouldn't be able to handle.

So he had silenced him.

* * *

 **There you go! Harry has finally engineer the accident to get at Stone! That's one problem removed from the list. James seems to be getting into deep water with some unsavoury people, but doesn't care as long as he gets his answers. Hermione and Ron are suspicious, Ron even going as far as to approach Malfoy for answers. More shit next time!**

 **If you enjoyed, please follow, rate or review! I'll try to be posting anywhere between 10-20k words for each chapter, and I'll be taking a bit of break for the next chapter because I have christmas, my birthday (I'm turning 20! :o) and all that other jazz coming.**

 **See ya soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

VERY LARGE AND IMPORTANT AN at the end.

Merry Christmas everyone!

-Freedom

* * *

Nicholas Flamel watched his visitor disappear in a loud crack of apparition. It had been a relatively short conversation between an old friend, but the Alchemist didn't find any need to smile. He could keep worrying about young Raphael… the poor boy had been through so much in such little time.

With his family line, it wasn't hard to imagine.

But instead, Nicholas turned away from the forest and the encroaching night and towards his small home.

Their home.

He could clearly see Pernelle through the repaired window, sleeping on the couch with a book in her lap.

It was an awful feeling, knowing that he had drugged her tea, but she didn't need to know what was happening.

She wouldn't understand.

Harry needed to do this, and this belief was strengthened by the fact that the boy was already upsetting some very unsavoury people.

Flamel had been able to read through the lines about what happened at Gringotts.

 _Mysterious dark wizard breaks into Gringotts vault, currently at large_ , wasn't a headline you see everyday. Nor was it entirely plausible. Only the strongest had ever managed to break into gringotts and escape alive.

The strongest or the most prepared.

That narrowed down the potential list.

Coinciding with Harry's timetable and a visit from a Council member?

Nope. He wasn't going to buy the _official story_ for a second. Anyone who'd lived as long as Nicholas had wouldn't. Because he'd been in the game for a very long time, he had his own ways of telling which way the winds were blowing, so to speak.

Based on his own sources as well, it was too skillful of an attack to be just anyone. No, he'd definitely put money on Harry.

But the boy was motivated to do right. To do good. Even if it was obvious that he hadn't disclosed everything that had happened in his world, Nick knew that he was working towards a better world.

'And where have you heard that before?'

Unbidden, an image of a wizard with white hair, mismatched eyes and a very old wand came to the forefront of his mind.

Nicholas shook it away.

No.

Harry seemed entirely different to them. The others were consumed with power, wanting to rise as each and every Dark Lord before them.

Harry wanted to kill one man.

He wanted to eradicate a Dark Lord.

Nicholas was very content in letting that happen, and this was contrary to what he had told his old friend.

Harry's secret was safe.

For now.

A 'hoot' drew his attention as he sat down next to Pernelle's softly snoring form.

The news paper.

Nick blinked as he read the title. He closed his eyes to for a moment, trying to delay the headache that was building. Deep breath in, deep breath out. His eyes opened to stare at the headline of the Daily Prophet.

He blinked again.

Nope. The title wasn't a figment of his imagination.

He sighed.

* * *

 **TRAGIC ACCIDENT AT HOGWARTS! TRIWIZARD TOURNAMENT POSTPONED!**

 _Yesterday, sources within the Magical school released to the press that a student had apparently fallen to their death from the school's astronomy tower. This horrible tragedy precedes the selection ceremony for the Triwizard Tournament and Headmaster Albus Dumbledore has declared a week free from classes in order to 'adjust to this horrible accident'. This incident has also caused a delay in the official starting date for the tournament, as Auror's and investigators sweep through hogwarts._

 _Student Joseph Stone, a magical orphan, was identified as the individual. Many within the Auror office have determined that this is indeed an accident. But some believe that this was in-fact a murder! After contacting Joseph Stone's family and receiving no comment, I continued to investigate-_

* * *

Harry glanced at the paper which had been thrown before him. Draco and Nott sat with him at the small table within his room. They'd called for breakfast early. As it turns out, Nott had a good relationship with the house elves of hogwarts, and a benefit of this relationship was being able to eat in on weekends.

Pucey was standing by the door, arms crossed. Morrow was reading his own book, seemingly disinterested.

"What?" Harry asked them all.

Nott settled back into the chair, taking a few moments to steady his hand.

"You tell me"

Draco was also eying Harry carefully.

While no one else knew of who Ares Flamel really was, and Draco did keep many secrets for Harry, they would always discuss tactics and moves together. If one of them made a play or an adjustment to the board, the other was supposed to know.

It was obvious what Harry did. He had killed Joseph Stone, engineering his death somehow. It was even clearer that he had been the one to do it.

Harry wasn't the kind of person to leave this up to another.

With Aurors crawling all over the castle, there was only one person Draco knew who could pull off something like that and leave no evidence.

It was also obvious that Stone wasn't the kind of person to kill himself. So even if Skeeter was trying to dribble on some extra honey to attract readers, she didn't know how on the mark she was.

That was to be expected.

"This is a good thing, we'll have more time to prepare-"

"Don't start" Nott nearly snapped, but Draco could tell he was feeling unstable. The boy was barely controlling his shaking hands.

"A tragedy happens, and the person involved is someone you've been giving the stink eye since the beginning of the term? No. I don't buy it"

"Neither do we" Hector glanced towards Pucey, referring to the two of them.

"And you think I had something to do with this then"

There was complete silence.

Nott had managed to remain completely still.

A glint crossed Harry's green eyes.

"I killed him"

The admittance got a reaction out of everyone else in the room, except for Draco of course. He had already known what had happened.

Draco saw Pucey turn pale, Nott shifted uncomfortably, and Hector pushed his glasses further up his nose.

"Why? Joseph Stone wasn't a threat to anyone, he-"

"Joseph was a threat to _everyone"_ Draco cut through Hector's words savagely, glaring towards the boy, "he was in service-"

Harry raised a hand.

Draco stopped talking.

"He was in service to a powerful man, one that you do not _simply_ trifle with" Harry was conjuring pieces to a chess board on the table, "there are probably more like him within the castle, spies that report back to their master daily"

"The Dark lord?" Pucey hazarded a guess.

Harry said nothing, allowing the others in the room aside from Draco to come to their own conclusions.

Hector was muttering and Pucey seemed like he'd rather be anywhere else right now.

Nott was staring at Harry intently. Draco looked calm and lazy, but he still wanted an answer.

"Joseph was going to be killed anyway. I managed to devise a situation to remove anyone of doubt or blame" Harry idly moved a pawn on the chessboard he had created.

"Why wait so long? Draco told me you approached him on the train, why didn't you do something there? You could've turned him into a vegetable"

Draco slammed a glass onto the table, turning on Nott with a glare.

"With what? Memory charms? The Imperius? Really? Like no one would have noticed?!" calming himself after the short outburst, Draco sighed, "you don't seem to understand that if Ares did adjust Stone's memory, then he'd be an entirely different person to what others knew him to be. That means we'd also have to memory charm or Imperius _anyone_ who talked to, met or saw him"

Draco snorted around his cup, even as the others in the room gave him wide eyed looks.

"Joseph Stone was already imbedded within our social groups, with the people we know, that was his mission. He stayed at Greengrass and Davis's homes over summer! You think he was going to let one of us kill him after just a few adjustments to people's minds?"

"You were aware that Flamel was going to…" Pucey went quiet after he figured out how far out of the loop he was compared to the Malfoy heir.

"Of course I was. We agreed on it. But we couldn't do it on the train. He'd already integrated himself with other people, people we'd have to _fix_. To many holes in someone's memory and eventually someone notices it"

Harry laughed, "and it couldn't have been done in the great hall, for obvious reasons"

Hector finally seemed to get it.

"So you tricked him to show up somewhere alone… where you'd have an alibi, where no one could disprove it being an unfortunate..." he trailed off.

Everyone seemed to get it.

Harry nodded.

"It took longer than I had hoped, but it happened"

"So what did killing him accomplish?" Adrian asked.

Harry sighed, vanishing the chess game and removing his wand from the table. A bright flame exploded from his hand, eventually dying down to reveal a photo.

A man in a black suit.

He wasn't looking towards the photographer, so anyone in the room could only tell that the man in the photo was bald. He had a stocky frame and a well tailored suit. He was standing against some kind of rubble or broken pillar.

Draco felt his throat clench slightly.

The man in black.

He'd never seen him before, but Harry had proved his existence. The man was no myth. If the wizarding world was an ocean, he was the monster which skirted the depths, content to exist in the darkness.

"This is the head of the snake" Harry let go of the photo, allowing it to float in the air for everyone to see.

"Cut off the head, and the body will die" he idly repeated, his eyes staring blankly at one of the walls in his room.

"But this serpent will never give us the opportunity to take its head. It's played the game far longer than any of us have, so we're going to have to cut it up, piece by piece"

Harry let the flames appear again, showing a recent photo of Joseph Stone.

"This is just the tip of a very long tail" three more photos appeared, "we'll proceed from here"

And he began to explain the version of the plan which Draco and he had deemed appropriate for others to hear.

* * *

Hermione Granger was certain without a doubt that Joseph Stone had been murdered. Contrary to popular belief from those that accused her of taking a neutral side all the time, the Muggleborn girl could smell the stench in the air. And _who_ did Miss Granger so steadily believe committed the murder?

Ares Flamel stared right back at her from a cut out photo from a Witch Weekly magazine.

Surprisingly opposite to what Rose or Ron might believe, Hermione had begun to start seeing the threads, both little and small.

While her judgement was being thrown around in a time of mourning, something that Hermione was at least mature enough to admit to herself, there was a subtle layer of evidence slowly building up.

She had known about the _history_ that the Flamel heir and Joseph held. The way they always looked at each other, one scathing and the other demure yet passive, showed a strong amount of bad blood.

Rose had told her how Joseph described Flamel… he alluded towards a past they shared on opposite sides of a disagreement.

They both attend the same school and one of them suddenly turns up dead after sneaking away to go see Rose?

No. Joseph's death hadn't been a simple accident.

Hermione wouldn't have believed that someone like sweet Joseph was so clumsy and forgetful to slip and fall off the same tower where Rose and Ron had been ambushed by Flamel.

...but as much as Hermione could refer to her photos and posted notes on the wall, there was no conclusive proof to Ares's involvement.

Except for the note, which even then was taking a long shot in terms of admissible evidence.

The Note.

Flamel had given it to her to pass onto Rose for a nighttime meeting. Rose had left at the time the note suggested.

She had even brought her bag with her, taking it in case she needed the cloak to return. Based on the time of the meeting it was a good idea for her to bring it. You never know when Filch, Prefects or even a Professor would be running around. But Hermione had been more worried about what could have been happening as soon as Rose had stepped out of the common room.

Was this a trap? Was this some kind of malicious plan by Flamel? Her worries had hit a point of which she could not keep it to herself.

So she had told Ron.

Joseph had overheard and asked what was happening.

Hermione had told him. She had barely hesitated, even though Flamel had told her to keep it between Rose's closer friends. Hermione wasn't stupid, the more people knew about Ares organising a meeting with Rose the better.

If anything happened, they'd be able to place the blame on Ares.

Hermione stopped thinking for a moment, the layered grief of Joseph's death taking a backseat for a moment.

Just days ago she had been thinking Flamel was more misunderstood than a few of the more morally grey Slytherin's, but now she wasn't so sure.

The world wasn't sunshine and rainbows anymore.

A person was dead.

Accident or not, a life had been snuffed out, someone with the potential to do more was now nothing. While she didn't know Joseph as well as others might have, and he kept his past tightly to himself, she respected his skill and power.

Not that anyone else noticed it, she thought to herself.

Maybe Rose did, considering she had been slowly developing a crush on the boy.

But Joseph had been far more powerful than he showed. He almost seemed like he was trying to lower his skill level to fit in with those around him.

'He didn't want to be treated differently' Hermione nodded idly, reminding herself of her early justification as to Joseph's hidden talent.

The boy had seemed content living the most nondescript life he could, something that Hermione could respect him for.

Now he was dead.

And no one would ever get to know how talented or how strong Joseph Stone could have become.

In private, Hermione shed a tear for the boy.

They would have been good friends.

* * *

She hadn't come out of her room in awhile. Only Hermione was allowed in, and even then, it was only to bring food for her, to see if she was still functioning.

Rose felt a dull ache deep within her chest.

Ares Flamel had stood her up, leaving her alone in a classroom and never deciding to show himself.

Frustrated and dejected, she had decided to use the waste of time to catch up with McGonagall's transfiguration paper. A 15 inch paper due the second week of classes was a criminal offence, and apparently McGonagall was above the law.

Rose could remember the blur that sped past the window of the classroom. She remembered looking down and then up at the Astronomy tower which the figure had obviously fallen from.

The next thing she knew was she was telling Dumbledore what had happened, the world passing in a blaze of adrenaline.

Joseph had fallen to his death.

The Auror's which had been dispatched hadn't found any evidence of foul play on the corpse.

There was no lingering magic on the body, meaning that he had not been charmed, hexed, jinxed or cursed prior to his death.

Not that there was much of anything from where the body impacted.

And so a feeling of horror and dejected sadness had begun to coil in her gut, eroding her ever so slightly each day.

Rose needed more time.

She needed to be alone, but she needed comfort. She needed to be covered by affection and care, but she couldn't face another person.

She didn't know why she felt so bad about a death she hadn't even seen, from a boy who should have meant nothing to her, but for some reason it hurt so much.

* * *

Ron rubbed his knuckles, frustrated. Anger seeped through him as he landed another strike on his best post.

Blood trickled down from the split skin, flecks of it covering both his fists and the bedpost.

Joseph had been a good friend. Someone who he knew Rose and Hermione had no problem with. Quiet, soft and endearing, the boy was their fourth, the person Ron had always hoped would round out their group.

Rose and Hermione had always had each others backs, and sometimes he just wished for that same sense of comradery. To have a friend as close to him as those two were for one another.

But that wasn't going to happen.

He'd gotten letters from both his Dad and Mum, telling him what to do, how to think, and what to feel. Fred, George and Ginny had come to him directly to _help_ him.

Ron didn't want help.

He didn't need a hand.

He wanted his friend back. They all told him that wasn't going to happen. So Ron built motivation from the death of a young boy.

He'd be ready.

The Dark Lord… Voldemort was coming. And he was going to come and take Rose. Flamel was probably already lining the path that the evil bastard would walk.

Ron wasn't going to let that happen.

People like Malfoy and the rest of Slytherin were proof enough that only light wizards could come from three of the four houses.

A snake could never be good.

Ron punched the post once more.

Never again.

He wouldn't let it happen.

* * *

"A horrible accident" were either words of condolence, or an individual admitting guilt. The difference between the two of them was the intonation. A deeply sorrowful voice, maybe some choked sobs and the occasional tear from the eye, when done right, would sound right.

But an emotionless tone, cold eyes that displayed no emotion or feeling?

Sirius rounded on the voice, having stepped away from his third investigation of the Hogwarts grounds and taken to walking around the lake.

Green eyes and black hair greeted him, startling him for a moment before he saw the differences. This wasn't James.

The boy was obviously a student. One that he would have guessed to be in his Sixth or Seventh year. But he knew who this was. News spread fast about Nicholas Flamel's prodigal heir. One that was named after the god of war.

And _did_ the boy look like a warrior.

Ares Flamel was wearing a light hoodie and some muggle training pants, halfway through some kind of routine or jog.

It unnerved Sirius that the boy had managed to sneak up on him. Especially with how close he'd gotten.

"I'd say so" Sirius replied coolly, but his eyes narrowed. This _boy_ had been mentioned by his daughter in the very stilted and awkward letter. Having come from a family of Slytherin's for almost 12 generations. Sirius was privy to some of the aspects of Slytherin house not shared with most.

His daughter had told him what Flamel could do in the pit. She never minced her words either.

Brutal. Efficient. Uncaring.

The boy was certainly built for it.

It was completely believable that his headstrong daughter had lost to him in a duel in some manner or form, thus owing him the debt she detailed in the letter.

Ares cocked his head at the man, idly rubbing his hands together to create some heat. It was admittedly a cold morning after all.

"I was just curious as to why there was still an Auror presence at Hogwarts" the boy shrugged, "I assumed that the evidence was very clear as to what happened"

In that instant, the Black Patriarch had to almost fight himself not to launch a spell at the boy.

Sirius didn't of course, but he wanted nothing more than to punch this green eyed prick in the face. Or hex him. Or do something!

Many of the Auror's were of the shared opinion that an accident had occurred. James had spoken with his daughter, the only actual witness, before she had secluded herself from anyone else.

But Sirius, James, Frank and Dumbledore believed something else had happened. Voldemort had begun to move behind the scenes. People were disappearing, dangerous wizards were being taken as they moved between custody of magical prisons. Even Azkaban was on high alert now, as something had tripped its intricate ward system a few days ago.

The less obvious moves had also happened, such as the world cup attack, and the siege of Gringotts.

There was more happening than before.

And suddenly a student turns up dead at Hogwarts?

No.

This was no accident.

And this boy knew something. Sirius could only suspect it, but like Lucius Malfoy had done over the years, the boy was baiting him to some kind of tempered reaction.

Sirius was hopeless as he responded.

"Not all of us agree on the popular story"

The green eyes twitched slightly, a small smile coming across the boy's face, "I can respect that… have a nice day Auror Black"

Sirius didn't bother to stop the boy as he jogged away, wanting to grill him on how he knew who he was.

Everyone knew who Sirius Black and James Potter were. The formidable Auror duo. The boy would have just given him some drivel and spat his own achievements back at him as evidence of his recognition.

But there was more going on at Hogwarts than Sirius had been aware of. Not all of the students were in on it, obviously, but people like Ares Flamel must have been.

Everything that was happening seemed to coincidental for it to be as plain as it was presented.

Things were shifting beneath the surface.

Sirius would be damn sure he'd expose all of it to the light, even if he had to step on some toes along the way.

* * *

"You'd think that after all this time we'd have a nicer place to convene than a graveyard" Joseph Hargreave spoke out into the silence. The shadows that surrounded him were long and subtle. Plenty of exits, or places to hide.

Figures began to materialise in the dark. This was protocol for whenever they conveened. Always assume that things could go wrong. It was a tentative alliance between the seven of them, and betrayal had happened before.

The long tombstones of the wizarding burial stretched high into the sky, but the moon and stars were still visible.

Hargreave snorted at the constructions as the group assembled. The Wizarding world was always so subtly envious of the Muggle world. Not having to hide like rats in a sewer had an appeal to it, and every magical community was beholden to the statue of secrecy.

He couldn't fault the others for it. The evidence spoke for itself when it came to terms of integration into muggle society.

The witch hunts still sat firmly in the back of many a witch and wizards minds. But instead they had to admire the muggle world from behind their wards and layers of protection.

This jealousy manifested in the way wizards governed their world. Eerily similar to their muggle counterparts, yet never so _mundane._

Architecture, Art, Philosophy, etcetera. If the muggles could do it, wizards and witches were capable of making it greater!

Grander!

Far more beautiful!

No one needed to-

"I've recommended my holiday home countless times, but none of you seem to take me up on it" the voice was charming and polite, "I have an assortment of wines I know _some_ of you would enjoy"

Joseph looked down from the night sky, observing the gathered group. A man in deep blue suit had been the one to speak.

The American. He was looking towards one of the more pale members of the group.

His long brown hair flowed freely down his back. He had rough features, appearing brutish and simple despite the despondent smile on his face.

Names were of no importance to this group. Among the gravestones only the dead would hear their words.

"Your trinkets mean nothing, _American"_ the only dark skinned man growled. He was covered in traditional garb and cloth, many shades of red and brown swathed his figure. Mismatched eyes of blue and yellow glanced at them all through a small slit across his face.

The Holy Man.

"I prefer my drinks on the go" the pale man spoke up, his deep black suit blending in with the darkness.

A being of shadow. Chalk white skin, sunken red eyes and ash grey hair.

The Vampire. One of the oldest in the world. He'd seen the change of empires. Yet he still bent the knee to their shared master.

"I'd like to know what this meeting is about"

All white robes covered the speaker. A grey cowl covered his head, underneath it was short cut white hair. He held a lightly tanned complexion.

His cobalt blue eyes were filled to the brim with intense hatred.

The German.

Of the gathered individuals, Joseph almost feared him the most. He was unpredictable, violent, prone to moments of complete insanity and startling insight. Sometimes both at the same moment.

He had challenged their Master to a duel long before the council was created. He had tasted defeat and was forced to bend the knee. Their Lord had seen his potential, much like those in his family's line.

A powerful asset, rather than a needless waste.

But he had his moments of toeing the line. The Vampire would not have been accepted into the council if the German had not _made space_.

"I agree"

Everyone reacted subtly to the speaker. Hargreave felt like a bucket of ice had gone down his spine and went rigid. Once everyone registered that the man in a black suit with a red tie had spoken, they turned towards Hargreave, expectant for information.

Joseph cleared his throat.

The last two of the group were the mysteries. One's that didn't like to be prodded, or asked questions. Some members of the group held identities and positions of power throughout the world, while the final two were shrouded.

The speaker, the only one of the two who would speak was the Warlock. He dealt in the darkest kind of magic. He sounded old and ancient, but there was no proof to his identity or age. A mask of shifting shadows covered his features. One could see the darkness twist across his entire head, his visage eternally consumed by the night.

His black gloves lead to a black suit, and the only distinguished color was his red tie.

Standing by his side was his equally mysterious compatriot, an unknown woman with a tribal mask covering her face. She was the Shaman. Her skin was tanned a light brown with intricate tattoos that glowed with some kind of ethereal power. She had killed the Spaniard in order to join their illustrious group.

Not an easy feat by any means.

But Hargreave had watched her tear the man open with her ceremonial dagger. The one with the red gem on its hilt that was very obviously attached to her brown leather belt.

"Barty Crouch Junior has finally made his move. He's in place and ready to commit to the plan at a moments notice" Hargreave fiddled with a small coin in his pocket.

"Already?" the German frowned, immediately addressing the shared confusion of the others in the room.

Not that anyone could tell if the Warlock or Shaman were confused.

The Warlock shifted slightly, his hands clenching and unclenching.

"While interesting, this isn't enough of a concern to shift me away from my work"

The threat was implied. Of all of them, the masked individuals were the most reclusive, prefering to complete their private tasks for their master and minimizing their interaction with the others of the Council. Taking away time from their precious work had gotten others killed.

Hargreave cleared his throat slightly. He was tense, naturally so, having to stand before a group of the most dangerous witches and wizards to ever exist. Not to mention that Hargreave was completely aware of his standing as the weakest among the group, the one that had the most public interaction out of all of them. If he screwed up in any form or way, he was replaceable.

Only their shared Master's word kept him alive. If that were to ever abate or be rescinded, he'd be killed instantly.

"One of my spies, our Traveler, has just been killed. We're currently unsure as to the identity of the killer, but whoever it is, they are aware of us"

The Vampire hissed.

"How is this possible, Warden?!" a long nailed finger was pointed at him from in front of a venomous glare, "you hold _all_ the keys, and now-"

A wave of red energy collapsed the vampire to the ground.

The creature howled and wailed as the magic began to burn its hide.

"You think the killer is another Traveler, don't you Warden? The one that got away" the Warlock released the power he had used to punish the Vampire. The beast rose to its feet, snarled, but ultimately did nothing.

No one challenged the Warlock. He was the strongest of all of them.

In response to the question, Hargreave nodded.

"We believe his motivation is to destroy our puppet. Not only does my information point towards his efforts being concentrated on removing Death Eater threats, but he is directly responsible for the theft of Excalibur"

"Why have you not been able to track his form? The others created a footprint of some kind, did they not?" the Holy Man wondered aloud, a golden light forming in his open left hand. A wooden staff was now held firmly in his hands.

"You may try" Hargreave said to him, "but his construction seems to be different"

"And what of Ares Flamel? Is he not the perfect candidate for this Traveller?" the American wondered, "I believe the report says the fluctuations around the Veil ceased a few days before Nicholas announced his Heir's existence"

The German scoffed, "I was just speaking with him this morning. Flamel is clean"

"You keep regular correspondence with the Alchemist?" The Vampire smirked towards the German, "how quaint"

Fury laced with magical intent permeated the air of their shared space, "I would think before I talk, _beast_. Such accusations are baseless"

A darker magical force silenced them both before a fight could escalate.

"Please Children. Our dear Warden has not finished speaking"

Hargreave fought a shudder as he continued on.

"A coin was stolen from my operative. It was disconnected as soon as I learnt that it was missing. James Potter has been drawn into the fold"

"Is this wize?" the Holy Man grumbled, "the fates speak to me about the Potters, and it is not all good. Young Rose can be the face of our new wizarding world… but there is another Potter. A male. He will be our Ruin if he is left to run free"

"You spend too much time in caves with mystic spices old man" the Vampire smirked, "James Potter is a good man, even I have heard of his exploits"

"Oh"

The Warlock sounded surprised.

Everyone turned to him.

"It's clear, is it not?" Hargreave could see the sinister smile behind the mask in his mind. He could picture black teeth dripping with blood.

"We all remember the last time we ignored the warnings of our esteemed member" he gestured towards the Holy Man, who glared at the Warlock.

Hargreave recalled.

If they had listened, then their first puppet, Grindelwald, would have succeeded with his plan. None of them had accounted for Albus Dumbledore, a powerful wizard that had existed under their detection.

"The Holy Man is correct. A male Potter is a threat. The only current threat to our agenda is the Traveller. We can now confirm that he is not a thief of family magic, but a Potter. The Sacclarius proves this"

The American shifted uncomfortably.

The Vampire rolled his shoulders.

The Shaman played with the hilt of her knife.

The German frowned.

The Warlock did not move.

The Holy Man was still casting his spell, muttering a dead language none of them could understand.

Hargreave sighed quietly. He had held his suspicions for long enough, but he supposed it was true now. The word of James Potter had not been enough to convince him. Just because the man had told him that the Traveller admitted as such to the Potter patriarch wasn't conclusive enough.

Hargreave had been feeding many organisations misinformation and lies in order to lead their attention in the wrong direction. To distract them from the Truth.

But while he would have done as such, it appeared the Time Traveller had given James Potter the truth by way of sentimental attachment.

Perhaps they were brothers?

Perhaps this was a close relative of their family? Or maybe a child of James from the Dead World?

The possibilities were infinite and numerous. And the only one with the answers was the one that they sought out.

His Lordship's council of seven.

Each working towards the same prosperous and beneficial goal, sweeping away the threats of the world that would halt the dawn of a new age.

"There is one more thing... that our Lord wishes for me to inform you of"

Everyone stopped worrying and became focused on what Hargreave was saying. This was important.

The Man in Black was never to be ignored.

* * *

"MY MASTER WILL COME FOR ME!" the wail cut through the corridors again. The man that cried out was far from broken, but was slowly crumbling to the presence of the Dementors.

"Still going strong eh?"

Holly Martland fought a cringe from around the lip of her coffee cup as her colleague took joy out of Rodolphus Lestrange's torment. She was on her first rotation of Azkaban for the month, and while she had worked at the prison many times before, she refused to take any semblance of joy from it.

The use of Dementors as a prison guard was disgusting and inhumane. Anyone short of a Dark Lord didn't deserve to be in their presence. The day someone discovered a way to kill a Dementor she'd be first in line to help extinguish their disgusting race of abominations.

Michael Brooker was her sick in the head partner for the watch. He was a tall man, much taller than her willowy and short frame at least. A stocky man with dark trussels kept under a flat cap.

He was sitting across from her in their small cabin, idly talking to himself as Lestrange howled into the night.

The shadows of Dementors floated around their charmed and warded space, but it still did little to keep the dread and cold out.

A small Fox Patronus, Holly's, was curled up on the coffee table. Brooker was seated behind one of the three desks that held papers detailed which prisoners were which. The office was basically a small box that remained deep within the structure of Azkaban. The guards would rotate between them, one responsible for maintaining the wards, and the other to basically keep that person company with a Patronus.

Their 'office' was composed of four solid yet misty glass walls, and Holly thought that whoever had been responsible for such a design choice should have been abruptly fined. Because you couldn't cleary see through the glass that meant every time a Dementor floated by there was only this horrid shadow and a spike of cold.

Why not just make it stone walls?

So at least you didn't have to partially picture the horrible creatures.

"Pretty vocal today" Brooker turned to look at Holly, attempting to draw a comment out of her, "Didn't know that Death Eaters could scream that loud, did you?"

Holly glared, "you're sick in the head, Michael"

But it didn't hold any bite.

Michael was an older wizard. He'd been a teenager during the first war. Most of his family had fervently defended the Wizarding World against the Dark Lords. Not just He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but Grindelwald as well.

A family of hero's slaughtered down to one boy attending Hogwarts when Britains Dark Lord rose up.

While climbing the ranks, Holly had heard about how Brooker slipped off the deep end one day, seemingly going down the same path as Mad Eye Moody.

Only he enjoyed what he did to Dark Wizards.

No one tried to correct him or call him out on it. Brooker had been, after all, exercising the power that the Ministry granted to Auror's and hit wizards in order to deal with those of the Dark.

Holly had joined the Auror's because she believed in Justice and Mercy.

Azkaban was devoid of both of those.

A faint buzz filled the small space.

Holly looked up from the newspaper she was trying to read, her eyes drifting away from the death as Hogwarts to look up at Brooker.

The man was alert, his wand in hand.

While Holly was thought he was despicable, he was a good Auror. The head on his shoulders had stayed attached for a very long time, longer than some. Even if he was barmy and lacked a moral compass, he knew when there was danger.

Something tripping the Azkaban wards could potentially be bad.

Holly soon found her Unicorn heartstring wand in hand. Almost as if the universe wished to prove her right, she felt the wards drop around their protected space.

The chilling cold swept in once the warmth had left.

Holly's small fox Patronus began to growl. A slow muttering was coming from the hallways outside the safe box that the Ministry Auror's remained in.

"Brooker, what the hell-"

"Quiet" the older man hissed.

A bolt of lightning danced through the glass. In an instant the world lit up in a horribly shower of bright white energy. Holly could see the shock across Brooker's face as the bolt sliced cleanly through his body.

The sudden crack of power subsided, and Brooker was left standing with a singed hole in his chest.

Somehow he managed to remain standing, a hand lightly coming up to touch the sudden wound.

"Fuck me" he swore, falling to the ground a moment later.

Holly was frozen in shock from the brutality of her murdered colleague.

It was the laughter from Rodolphus Lestrange that finally brought her back into the real world. With a sharp clarity she cut her wand through the air and out towards the now shattered glass wall.

A hundred shards flickered into movement, cutting away into the darkness of Azkaban's hallways.

There was a crack of air, and Holly ducked under the same bolt of electricity. As the lighting passed, some flecks of it danced across her back, sending laces of pain down her spine.

Holly screamed as her brain caught up with the feeling. She collapsed to the floor in agony, her Patronus slowly flickered out into the shadows, the warm light of emotion dying.

The cold was coming. With it, the rattling breath of monsters found in the deepest pits of her nightmares. She was going to die here.

A handsome face and a black wand worked its way into her darkening vision. His terrible red eyes were fixed on her.

David was going to be making her favourite pasta tonight. It was a treat for having to do an Azkaban watch. She was supposed to arrive home that night, be swept off her feet and loved unconditionally for having such a horrible day.

But that wasn't going to happen.

"Avada Kedavra"

The jet of green light struck her in the neck, severing the soul from her body in an instant. Her now glossy eyes stared up at the red orbs in that glowed in the dark.

Holly Martland died thinking of her husband.

* * *

"My Lord!"

The man turned, glancing towards the cages which housed the Azkaban prisoners. The Dementors had begun to float away, releasing their meal was now no longer attainable.

Bare feet stepped across the cold stone of the wizarding prison. The man quietly padded towards his devoted servant, stopping in front of the charmed and warded bars.

The scraggly head of the Lestrange brother was touching the floor in reverence to his master.

"My dear Rodolphus" the voice oozed sincerity and affection, "how loyal you have remained. Rise, my Death Eater"

The prostrated man complied in a second, hurriedly clambering to his feet.

He locked eyes with the man that stood in front of his cage.

Rodolphus Lestrange studied the man's face.

"Who the hell are you?"

* * *

He collided with the dirt, panting and groaning. Something was wrong, something was very wrong indeed. Harry and Voldemort had been fighting, but then suddenly nothing. It looked as if Harry had won, as if the monster was finally gone and it was time to rejoice.

But then…

Then it all went wrong. He came back from death, a wraith, horrible and dark, shifting through the air like smoke.

With a grunt the man pushed himself onto his hands and knees, slowly trying to stand up.

Red eyes danced across his memory.

He'd seen _him_ do it!

He saw him curse Malfoy right in the back.

The man shook his head, the numbness of travelling through the singularity finally catching up with him. His head was fuzzy, memories blocked by a white wall of noise. It hurt, everything hurt. But he hadn't been affected by the travel. His eyes could at least pick up on his gauntlets. He could feel the weight of his armor…

But he was the last.

All of his allies, Harry's team, had probably thought he'd died on the surface, swarmed by an endless tide of death.

But he'd survived. The time of his weakness had passed in his youth. War had galvanized another great soldier, one with the fortitude to weather the onslaught of thousands.

He had fought his way into the Chamber of Death on sheer will power alone, with agony tracing through his body as the department collapsed…

He had survived.

The real world shifted back into view. Tree's surrounded him. Dirt and smoked filled the empty and frigid air. The temperature was manageable, not something he'd have to spend too much time correcting or adjusting to.

What was important was regrouping at the rallying point.

The others needed to know what he'd seen, having been the last one through the portal and all.

It was like a nightmare, watching him begin to kill. Completely-

"He's alive!" a call came from his right, and almost immediately he shifted into response.

The armor on his form was dented and cracked, but each plate was capable of absorbing the magic. The first wave of spells splashed harmlessly off of him, but he could hear the creaks and groans of the platting.

'Fuck... Fuck!'

He was surrounded by 12 people in a small pit, each wizard and witch with a wand pointed at him.

'Where's the fucking sword!?'

"Take him. The Boss wants him alive"

Underneath the faceplate, eyes which belonged to a scarred and angry visage narrowed into rage.

"I'd like to see you bloody try" and a small frog was thrown into the air.

* * *

"What's with the white glowing circle?" Ron wondered. The week had been passing ever so slowly due to the fate of young Joseph, but the Golden Trio had finally found some stable ground in order to been seen in public again. Together they had decided to go check out the Goblet and those brave enough to enter their names.

Groups of friends that believed themselves to be competent were the majority that placed their names within the blue flames of the Triwizard cup.

The French had already seemed to conclude who their champions would be, and not many of them showed up in the room anymore.

Fleur Delacour, their prospective and most suspected to be selected as champion would occasionally come to the space in order to observe those from Hogwarts that would submit themselves.

Ron had been smacked by both Hermione and Rose for drooling at the girl.

Hermione sighed, "it's an age line. Dumbledore said only those that were sixteen and older could enter the competition"

Ron looked confused but nodded at her nonetheless. It was clear he couldn't understand why. Rose smiled at the two of them.

Hermione rolled her eyes but explained anyway, "because while the Tournament may sound like a good idea, a thousand Galleons is a lot, the danger is very real Ron. Many people have died in the pursuit of _eternal glory_ "

She obviously wasn't fond of the idea of the Triwizard tournament. But Hermione was never a large advocator for violence. One of her biggest faults when moving from a muggle world into the wizarding world was how brutal the two of them were in comparison to one another. Adjusting to how callous wizards and witches were, and how completely dangerous the wizarding world was… in most cases many found it a fair contrast to how beautiful magic also was. But Hermione had trouble accepting the horrid parts.

This brutality was clearly reflected by the much more violent and dangerous european school.

Durmstrang was a school full of power and might, any of their students would be potential candidates for the tournament, and if not for the age line, Hermione had speculated that many more of them would have submitted their names to the tournament.

"Oh crap. Incoming" Ron grumbled, glaring as a familiar head of black hair stepped into the room.

Green eyes were focused on the Goblet of Fire.

Ares Flamel seemed much more at peace than usual. His blank looks and empty gaze had been replaced by the occasional sight of warmth, and dare any of them ever admit it, care.

The boy had exchanged a frosty exterior for some warmth.

Not to see he still wasn't creepy.

Rose still thought he was a pratt for standing her up, but Joseph's death overshadowed any talk she could have had with him earlier.

"Ever with his minions" Ron added on, leaning back against the wall as Hermione and Rose analysed the group which followed the tall boy in.

Draco Malfoy. The ever constant right hand man of Slytherin's new top dog. Everyone had begun to see the full fluctuation of the Snake's power dynamic. At breakfast, lunch and dinner the other students would orient themselves around Ares and his group. The more trusted individuals sitting closer to Flamel.

Theodore Nott was a close second to Draco. The boy seemed more skittish than usual, but there was some determination in his look.

Hector Morrow and Adrian Pucey seemed to be with the Flamel heir out of necessity. They had his back in disagreements, but never went to openly socialise with the boy. A more business relationship if anything.

Ares stopped in front of the age line, other students from different houses watching him as he studied it.

Rose noted Daphne Greengrass and the other Slytherin girls coming into the space. The girl couldn't be clearer with her intentions. She had eyes for Flamel only.

Many whispers from the other students in the room started to break out as Flamel began to casually walk around the glowing circle, muttering all the while. Those from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang turned to their Hogwarts counterparts to ask what was happening.

Throughout it all, Rose had to honestly give Flamel points for seemingly ignoring all the chatter behind his back. Those of Gryffindor did not like the boy at all. His attitude and the house he was stuck in had helped them make their minds up.

Ravenclaw respected his intelligence, but they were fearful of his temperament. It wasn't like Ares had been subtle about any of his feelings. The boy just didn't seem to care about anything at times, and even if that was changing now, many had come to their own unshifting conclusions.

Ares stopped, turned his head and looked Rose right in the eyes.

His whole body twisted and he moved towards the girl, a soft look on his face, but determination behind his eyes.

"Uh Rose," Ron started, but stopped as his close friend matched the walk of Flamel, taking a few steps to meet him halfway.

Hermione was silent as the two stopped a few feet from each other. While she had kept her own opinions and theories to herself, she wasn't about to force Rose away from a confrontation with the boy.

"My apologies"

Rose looked confused at the abrupt statement, "for what?"

Ares rolled his eyes slightly, but gave a light smile, "for leaving you alone in that classroom. I'm sorry I couldn't make it in time. I had other things to deal with" he glanced a look back at Malfoy, the boy frowning at him in return.

Oh. So dealing with his private stuff then?

Mysterious prat.

"I lost track of time, and by the time I was free…" he trailed off lamely, giving Rose an honestly sad look.

Who knew the cold bastard was capable of showing emotion.

"It's alright" the girl admitted quietly, still not taking the reminder of Joseph to well, but willing to in order to get a beed on Flamel.

"I actually wanted to ask you something"

Ares nodded softly.

Rose lost her voice for a bit, but slowly worked up the courage, "I do wonder. How you got them… and who gave them to you"

They both understood what she meant by 'them'.

She idly traced the front of his body, wondering about the intense scars she had seen on the train.

"This is a conversation for another time" Ares declared flatly.

Rose quickly jumped in before he turned away, "but a conversation we _will_ have?"

She had actually moved forward, gripping him by the arm in order to stop him from leaving. He glanced down at the arm which Rose retracted almost as fast, refusing to acknowledge the heat in her cheeks.

Ares took a few moments, studying the girl's face. Rose felt like she was under a crucial observation. Something tickled the front of her head when she glanced into his eyes, but the feeling slinked away a moment later.

For a moment she thought she was going to faint. But then her senses took in the other people staring at them, each of them trying to figure out why the bad boy of Slytherin and the Queen of Gryffindor, the Girl-Who-Lived, were having a stare off.

"Alright"

Her focused snapped back to Ares as the boy nodded at her, fully turning away a moment later and walking back to his group.

Rose took a moment to study his posse and felt a spike of joy at Daphne's frosty expression.

The girl really was too obvious. Hogwarts' ever running rumor mill hadn't reported anything between the two of them. Yet.

So unless the boy was thick, Rose knew that she couldn't be getting attached to a pretty face. Even if he was unsettling at times, she could admit to the appeal of his more mysterious motivations. Also that he wasn't a complete prat. Anyone who could curb the ego of Draco Malfoy was a good person in her book.

"Hey Rose. It's almost Lunch"

She turned back to Ron, who gestured to the hallway away from the Goblet's chamber.

Smiling at her friends, she joined them and they left together. Hermione threw a glance over her shoulder before quickly turning away.

Ares Flamel was looking directly at them.

* * *

When the Goblet finally produced the names of the champions, Harry was on the edge of his seat.

This was the same for many others, but his investment of interest was far more serious than those of the children around him.

The change in the timeline, of how things should have been, had thrown a much larger wrench into his plans than he could have anticipated.

Barty Crouch Jr. was most certainly not the imposter Alastor Moody.

Names he didn't recognise were now involved in the events of the Triwizard tournament. The events were also up to chance, as maybe it could be different here.

For people like Cedric Diggory, this could be the difference between Harry saving his life, and the boy dying a cold death, forgotten in a graveyard.

Glancing over at the hufflepuff head, Harry couldn't help but promise himself he wouldn't let the boy become a footnote to the Dark Lord's long and detailed kill count.

"From Beauxbatons" Dumbledore called out, magically summoning the three names which the Goblet had produced to his open hand.

"Fleur Delacour!" there was applause, some cat calls, and a few whoops from the male side of the audience. Harry nodded to himself, accepting that some things would remain the same. He'd wager money on Krum also being selected for Durmstrang.

"Gabriel Marquis!" less applause.

"Matthew Arbour!" a specific group cheered the loudest over the polite applause of the hall. Harry couldn't care less.

The people around him melted away as he focused all his attention on the selection process.

"For Durmstrang!"

Three pieces of paper danced towards Dumbledore again. Karkaroff looked distrungled, but Harry did note that the man clutched his arm. Where the dark mark was located.

Perhaps he was the-

"Viktor Krum!"

The hall went wild. Hogwarts had always had a tight connection to quidditch. Harry wouldn't have been surprised if Hogwarts students had cheered the loudest for Krum.

"Vladimir Lock!"

An interesting name. Harry quickly spotted the boy in the crowd…. His black and white hair, slashed through by the bright streaks was interesting. He didn't remember seeing a student like this the last time.

"Anton Mikhail"

Mikhail? As in… the crucible Mikhail? The famous potioner? Harry searched for the boy, but he had already moved towards the champions room.

"For Hogwarts!" Dumbledore smiled at the crowd, noticing how the tension had increased tenfold. Naturally the hosting school was excited about who would represent them.

"Cedric Diggory!" as the name was announced Harry deepened that promise to save the boy. He just couldn't let it happen again, especially someone who was so genuine and-

"Rose Potter?"

The whole crowd went silent. Harry could feel his heartbeat picking up, as well as his anger. He'd been warding the damn cup, there should have been no possible way to… his plan was crumbling again. This wasn't supposed to have happened.

Rose had been forced to stand and moved stiffly towards the champions room, obviously ignoring the whispering and words coming from the hall.

"Ares Flamel"

Harry looked up, and his brain finally concluded what had just been said. It had helped that everyone in the space was staring at him, but seeing Dumbledore's look of shock and surprise really knocked the nail into the coffin.

"Fuck" Harry hissed, uncaring of those closest to him.

The icy silence of Rose had been deepened even further as he stood, making his way calmly towards the Champions room.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

Reality wasn't supposed to be fluid. At least, Draco was fairly sure it wasn't. Cracks. Little breaks in the corners of his vision were threatening to take over. It was like someone had taken a chisel to his eye and shattered it. The lines slowly spreading across his eyesight, ravaging him in the way only magic could.

The Malfoy heir threw up again. His silencing charm kept anyone from knowing his condition. It was getting worse.

Out of nowhere it would appear, his connection with the real world, his mind, his memories, all of it became useless as some kind of internal struggle began to tear him apart.

The very foundation of his person was put into question, as the world around him became lucid.

Red eyes burned, watching as the fire swallowed his world. Draco shuddered and looked up into the mirror. He… he was remembering things. Things he couldn't remember, and shouldn't.

He was Draco Malfoy, intelligence agent, ally to Harry Potter….

Harry Potter? Who the fuck was that?! It wasn't like that bitch Rose had a brother… NO! NO! He saw what had happened!

He had felt his body collapse, even as he had left the world!

" _All according to plan"_

Draco threw up. He retched into the toilet bowl for a few moments as pain threatened to knock him unconscious. This wasn't a magical disease. This had to do with the travel. Something else had happened in the Department of Mysteries, something that had been blocked from both his mind and Harry's. Harry… he… he…

He did not need to be told this.

No.

He couldn't tell Harry this. Something was wrong. Ever so wrong. Draco clutched his head in pain, whining as a ringing noise began to take him over, swallowing him.

In an instant, he was no longer slumped over a toilet in a boy's bathroom at Hogwarts. He was standing on a cliff of white rock. The dark sea lapped against it, thick smoky clouds boiling underneath the smooth waves and frothy clashes of stone and nature.

What was this?

Where am I?

A white hand found itself on his shoulder, helping him up from the edge.

Draco could not bring himself to look at it.

" _ **Not yet… not now**_ "

And he was back, thrusted into the reality that he could recognise.

Within his body, the pain began to recede. The cracks repaired themselves, vanishing alongside the irrational hatred he had felt in his youth.

Standing, Malfoy conjured a mirror in order to study himself.

He was sweaty, red faced and looked crazed, but it was him. He was sure of it. It was his body, his soul.

He was in control.

Then why was he so terrified?

* * *

 **So there we have it.** Another chapter that brings about the expansion of my plot. For those of you that still remain confused about the story and have pointed out as such to me in less than respectful ways, or for many of you that don't understand what is happening and why, that's because I have intended to do as such. I'm not going to spoon feed you questions and then the responding answers, I'm hoping that this story not only peaks your curiosity, but also your ability to think critically. You _can_ read it while being relatively braindead, but then when I reveal the aspects and parts I'm keeping hidden from you all, it'll be so much more fulfilling if you have suspected such twists and plots. Keeping tabs at moments that speak out to you are important, but so are not falling for the obvious and maybe subtle baits that I'm layering in. This story is supposed to be complex, and I'm trying to keep you on your toes will all the interconnected plot points. Speaking of plots, and twists, I've completed a fully formed plan for a few chapters going forward, as well as pivotal moments in the story's and the arc's I have created. So for those of you that might be worried I have no idea about what is going on, fear not. There is a fluid plan. Furthermore, these points will take time in order to be expanded on. Frankly I know I'm not a good enough writer to do such an intricate and deep plot, but my plan for this story was to test my ability to do so in order for the story to come across in a clear and concise way. Not only is this a test for myself, but also a test to see if anyone on this site also 'get it' so to speak. I'm not trying to belittle the intelligence of everyone else, but rather I feel we've settled for crap writing and lazy plot points for so long. Finding exceptional work, for the sake of a good read rather than amassing a large amount of praise is harder to find than I realised. People that wish to entertain rather than be honoured for said entertainment are even harder to locate. So by doing this little project of mine, I hope you, the reader, can try and appreciate the far more complex and well thought out work. But don't take everything for granted. To be practical, not every little piece of writing published here can be considered powerful, meaningful and perfect, but to strive for better quality content is always a win.

My monologuing aside, I hope you can enjoy my work is for what it's worth. I hope that you will continue to point out where I'm being too vague or where I've messed up. Every little comment means so much to me, and when someone ignorantly explodes at me that I didn't bash certain characters, overpower others, or do some generally atrocious sin to any kind of intelligent writing, I find myself repulsed and content with no longer continuing.

For those that offer the positivity and praise, thank you.

 _ **NOTICE FOR HELP:**_

Last but not least, I'm looking for help. Creating this work is not going to be easy, and as I find myself bogged down with more and more drivel, I need help. Asking for help hasn't always been the easiest thing for me but now that I can finally admit I do need help with this admittedly grand story.

And if you think you're up to the task of assisting me, the most effective way of seeing if your talents are appropriate for this tale is a writing challenge. This challenge has no bearing on the actual story or events that will occur.

Write a scene about my Harry having a conversation with Voldemort between a sheet of glass. Neither can harm the other.

The best person to do this I will enlist to help me.

Rant over.

Luv u all


	8. Chapter 8

**Happy new year everyone! Managed to crank this out for all of you. I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

They _weren't wizards anymore._

 _To suggest they were, suggested they were human. It suggested that others were in the same league of ability and skill as they were. She would have laughed if she could have._

 _Rose watched as the gods flung magic and might around with small flicks of their wands, slight twitches of their fingers, and the occasional whispered words._

 _The awe of the spectacle was only matched by her fear of them. At some point in the battle, she knew it was Ares before her. This created a more believable reality, but still made it hard to imagine the dancing magic between the two of them. If she hadn't been seeing it for herself, there was no one who could make her believe. But her sense of reality focused on the glare that venomous eyes directed towards the gleeful red. Those green eyes she could only find a likeness to herself or her mother, and the man fighting was most certainly neither of them._

 _He was older again. Like before._

 _She turned her head to watch his opponent, the other powerful wizard. The red eyes. A monster. Demon._

 _Bald, snake like, a horrid smile drawn across a lipless face, Rose felt ill log at him. In fact, her scar hurt ever so slightly as she tried to observe his pale features._

 _He was swathed in dark shadows, flickering outward to observe the torrent of spellfire he was receiving from Ares. They dashed, flickered and moved around one another, each of them taking different moves and attacks every second. One second Rose was stuck in between the spell fire, each bit of magic flickering harmlessly through her, the next she was watching from a distance._

 _There were others in the large cavernous room. Men in masks of white, monsters, winged animals, gruff men and women, angry werewolves… Rose didn't know what to focus on._

 _As the flight between the gods shifted, hundreds fell in the crossfire._

 _They were uncaring of the insects that fought for either of them, merely obstacles to be removed in the way of a greater goal._

 _A crack of magic broke the focus of everyone. The gods halted their fight for a moment, startled by the newcomer._

 _In the center of the room, an old man with starling white hair was standing by a ring of symbols which encased an archway._

 _Rose could see the whispering wind of this…_ veil. _It unnerved her. It was unnatural and terrifying._

 _A howl of anger and rage preceded a new onslaught of magic. The red eyed monster was furious about this. Ares buffered the storm, a slew of protection spells covering him. The red, green and black magic flayed others. Witches and wizards were reduced to nothingness in a second._

 _The monster was furious about whatever the white haired man had done._

 _A small understanding made itself known to her, as she realised what had been accomplished._

' _An enchantment line… it had been broken'_

 _Somehow the gravity of such an accomplishment was not lost on her, even as she couldn't comprehend the dream around her._

 _Ares flickered out of existence, dodging a bright green curse aimed at his back._

 _Rose watched his instinctual retaliation of a blasting curse at the far off wizard. While the spell did not strike the blonde haired wizard, it had managed to send him spiraling into the evil looking veil._

 _His face became clear to her, even as he slowly vanished into the ethereal world, unnoticed by all except for her._

 _That face… it looked like… no…_

 _Joseph?_

* * *

"You alright?"

Rose was startled out of her head by the hand which found itself on her shoulder. Cedric Diggory looked down at her with a soft smile on his face.

Rose fought the heat in her cheeks as she brushed his hand away, taking a step back from him. Everyone in the room was looking at her strangely, and Rose would rather have been anywhere else.

They had grouped off on seperate sides of the room in some kind of odd stand off, each refusing to address the other, content to only stare and observe.

The cold looks of the Durmstrang Students were almost as unnerving as the high and mighty air that the Beauxbatons pretty boys and girl put off.

"I'm fine" Rose mumbled, suddenly feeling self conscious under the harsh gaze of Fleur Delacour. Her Scar felt so very prominent.

The door to the chamber almost exploded open as a very grumpy yet oddly calm Ares Flamel marched in. He didn't seem ready to deliver any kind of announcement, and Rose felt her heart jolt slightly as he came to stand by her, arms crossed over his chest.

She could have sworn his eyes softened when they met with hers, but assumed it was a trick of the torch light as he turned his burning green sight on the other champions.

Fleur Delacour seemed particularly startled at his appearance.

Viktor Krum held a calm and pensive gaze, but his own frosty composure narrowed on Flamel.

Two hot heads in the same room.

Great. Like that won't cause any problems down the line.

While Krum seemed tense and grumpy, his compatriots weren't phased or even interested in the slightest.

The tallest of their group, Vladimir if Rose remembered correctly, had the strangest hair. Midnight black, like Ares, except he had multiple slashes of bright white all throughout it. Rose thought it was a style.

The shortest, a very small boy for his age, was Anton. He was the son of Stefan Mikhail. The creator of the Crucible. Rose only knew as much about him because her mother was obsessed with the creation. A fantastic piece of magic. The boy seemed nothing like his confident father.

He had soft blue eyes, brown hair that was evenly cut around his head, and while he possessed the same sharp and thin nose as his dad….

Rose noticed how the extra attention from her was getting the boy to turn in on himself. Away from the girl that was staring at him.

"The girl who lived?" Fleur Delacour drew the attention of everyone as she scoffed, looking over Rose and her scar with a dismissive air.

"I expected more" her nose turned up slightly at the Hogwarts group. Cedric obviously didn't take the comment well about his friend, and was about to express as such.

Ares cut him off.

"Beauxbatons always did cater to the arrogant" he looked at them sharply with his arms crossed over his chest still.

"As expected"

Even though she didn't like the idea of conflict so early in the tournament, Rose still shot a grin up towards Flamel.

The boy didn't acknowledge her look, but the corner of his lips turned up slightly.

Fleur had no response, neither did her two pretty boy's.

Gabriel and Matthew. A blonde and a brunette. Classically handsome, sharp features, soft eyes with slightly tanned skin.

Rose knew they were good looking.

The door opened once again.

Immediately, chatter and talk from the Headmaster's preceded their entrance, but Dumbledore stood out among the three of them as the most furious. Karkaroff, the Durmstrang Headmaster cast an appreciative eye towards the Hogwarts three.

He swept between Madame Maxime and Albus's more heated exchange.

"To put it simply Dumbledore, if the Goblet has selected them above all the other names placed within the cup, then they are the rightful champions, regardless of age"

The Hogwarts Headmaster pounced on the statement.

"We cannot have children competing in such an event!"

Some other professors were slipping into the room.

"But the Goblet has selected them, they are the rightful contestants!"

"Aye, and you think you'll be getting a better chance with for your champions to be pitted against kids" Alastor Moody made his presence known.

Nobody missed the word of "coward" that Madame Maxime coughed out behind a hand. She seemed content will letting both of the schools tear at each other's throats.

Karkaroff rounded on Moody, snarl in his voice, "I am merely pointing out the futility of arguing at this point!"

"Enough!"

The adults finally stopped bickering. Genuine surprise was written plainly on the faces of everyone present. Flamel's magical aura was immense. He had made the air thick with it for a moment.

Rose noted how only Dumbledore seemed the most muted in his non-verbal response.

Ares cut right into the crux of the issue.

"The contract of the goblet is binding, yes?" Flamel had everyone's attention as he posed the rhetorical question, "my father was there when it was designed. He's told me as such. We're under magical compulsion to at least attend all the events of the tournament"

Ares pointed towards the Durmstrang Headmaster, "he's right. If we have been selected, there's no going back. We _are_ the Hogwarts champions" he glanced down to Rose briefly.

Dumbledore sighed gravely, getting a triumphant smile from Karkaroff as he nodded his head.

"Mister Flamel is correct… you are to compete in the tournament, regardless of the circumstance for your entrance" his blue eyes peered towards Rose.

He was trying to tell her something.

Something important.

"If that's all then"

Flamel made an about face and exited the space.

No one bothered to stop him.

Albus and the other Headmasters gave instructions to the others about getting a good rest, and knowing who you'd be working with… and against.

"May the odds be in your favour" Karkaroff snarked as he walked away with the Durmstrang students.

Rose wasn't going to sleep well tonight, she knew it.

* * *

"The Azkaban wards were down for nearly an hour and no one noticed?" James Potter asked. He was standing in the corridor were some powerful magic had been cast. The spell must have gone off hours ago, but the air was still charged with electricity.

Impressive stuff.

"For the third, and final time James, yes" Sirius sighed, "Percival's been snooping around the entire perimeter while Markus is checking the ward stones"

'Those two didn't make mistakes', James conceded the point internally.

The Auror headquarter alarms had gone off like mad only half an hour ago. James and Sirius were always the quickest when it came to being first responders.

Aside from the potentially addictive feeling of tackling with a new crime, both had their own motivations to investigate shady activity.

When the location of the crime was Azkaban, they had only hesitated slightly before going. After all, they needed to see if they could still each cast their Patronus.

"Outside help though, that's for sure" Frank muttered, completing their little investigative trio. Sirius jumped at the mans sudden appearance from around the corner of the corridor.

Honestly this place gave him the creeps and fucked with his nerves simultaneously.

Imagine being stuck here for years? Worse still, imagine being stuck here under a false charge?

Bloody terrible thing to happen to a bloke.

"Markus is sure?"

Frank nodded at James's question, coming to stand by both him and Sirius as they inspected Rodolphus' empty cell.

They'd already checked for any magical breaks in the cell or the doorway, and apart from the bars having been ripped from their holdings, no magical trace was present on the inside.

"Ward stones weren't touched at all. Whoever it was managed to magically aparate into the Prison, and then immediately plugged the giant hole her or she left"

James and Sirius looked at each other, knowing understanding in the others eye.

Frank picked up on it almost immediately.

"Let me guess" the eldest of the three sighed, "the same guy who killed all those Death Eaters at the world cup"

"Azkaban is based around the same warding system as all ministry issued ones" Sirius factually stated, "and we both saw our previous man rip right through those wards. Granted it was a homemade portkey" Sirius shrugged at the end.

Their mystery wizard had already proven that he was capable of circumventing wards that most believed unbreakable. This was furthered by the belief that he was the same person that went through Gringotts.

"Wrong M.O* though" Frank finally decided on, having taken a few moments to digest that painfully conclusive information.

Both James and Sirius looked to their friend for further clarification. Something that Frank noticed only a few moments later after staring blankly into the jail cell.

"If this is the same fellow as the one at the world cup, he's a death eater killer, that's for certain" Frank gestured to the cell, "so why would he come to Azkaban of all places just to free one imprisoned dark bastard"

Frank pointed down the corridor, referring to the other floors, "why didn't he just Avada Lestrange, before going down the corridor and cutting people off his list? The other members of the inner circle that got caught are on this floor"

James said nothing to that point, having to turn away as a commotion broke out from the control box. The murder scene.

While Brooker was a known element around the office, James had been the senior Auror for young Holly. He'd known her better than most. She had been his cute little trainee in earlier years and he'd been responsible for the few yet outstanding commendations she'd achieved.

Arriving to find her cold corpse had been painful.

Sirius leaned backwards, catching a glimpse at who was causing the noise around the investigating Unspeakables.

"It's David" he mumbled.

James felt a stab in his heart. Holly's husband had gotten the news then. Even as he stepped from the cell and approached the man he felt a deep sorrow for his fellow Auror.

The man had fallen to the cold stone floor next to the motionless form of his wife. He held her and wept, even as people hovered around him nervously, needing him to release her but unwilling to tell him to do so.

The job always changed whenever it was someone you knew.

Auror's didn't usually have to investigate the deaths of other Aurors.

James approached the sobbing man, wrapping a hand comfortingly on his shoulder. This was going to take some time.

* * *

"And where are we going now?" Draco stretched as he sauntered behind Harry. The boy had woken him to find the tall boy outside his door up with a sleepy Theodore Nott right behind him.

It had been the incessant knocking which had woken him up.

Of course, Draco had tried to see if a silencing spell would make the annoying individual go away at 5 in the morning.

When his spell was shattered by the at the time unknown individual on the other side of the door, Draco knew who it was.

The corridors of Hogwarts were slowly getting colder, something that was ever so frustrating for him, preferring the warmer temperatures of his family's summer homes.

...but that didn't matter, because those summer homes were destroyed in-

Draco nearly collided with Harry's back.

He had stopped, and Draco had been so absorbed with his errant thinking that he'd nearly walked into him.

"We've discussed this before. It's time to get started" Harry looked to Draco only, turning to Nott afterwards, "you're fully ready to commit yourself to this?"

Draco turned to Theo as well, watching him shift under their combined gazes.

He was no pureblood bigot. Theo was far more misunderstood than most of Slytherin house knew. A strong boy on the surface, arrogantly yet subtly proclaiming the same beliefs as his father. Get him alone, and a small boy was all you received, one who wished desperately to slink out from the shadow his father cast.

Of course he'd latch onto someone like Ares, someone who not only wished to dismantle an archaic system, but burn the horrid monsters at the helm.

A fire built in the eyes of the boy, something Draco had to admit was mildly threatening. Perhaps it was just the contrast of how normally demure he'd seen the other boy, but it was interesting to see that Nott did possess some bite when his convictions and shell were shattered.

"I won't be a coward, not anymore"

Harry smiled at the boy, a warm one, devoid of his normal frosty attitude. Draco idly wondered if being in Hogwarts was doing good things for him. Considering he seemed to be relaxing around the very same people he'd buried.

But some part of Draco could understand that Hogwarts would have that effect on an orphan boy. Some part of Harry always felt the castle was the only home for him. The only place he would have ever fit in.

' _His home'_

Life after Hogwarts was something someone like him would have never considered. He had no plan, it was clear. Not that planning or ideas mattered in the old world.

Draco couldn't help but constantly muse and consider as they walked to their destination.

He was bloody tired after all.

Harry finally stopped again, and Draco felt his stomach drop out.

"We're here?" Nott asked, glancing to the place Harry stared at.

The tallest of them just nodded, glancing towards Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with a familiar glint in his eye.

Draco felt cold as Harry stepped into the room. Theo looked bemused, obviously not understanding what this bathroom really was.

"Myrtle?" Harry called aloud, as Nott looked dismissively at the destroyed bathroom. He didn't question Harry, but he obviously didn't think the boy was being serious.

A ghostly head poked out from a stall to their right and Harry moved faster than lightning.

Draco saw the Sacclarius appear in his hand for a bare moment. Nott wouldn't have seen it. But what the other boy did notice was the Lantern. Draco remembered it.

He'd seen what it could do.

Of course that awful thing was still with Harry.

As Harry caught the Lantern, he pointed his wand towards the entrance of the bathroom, a powerful silencing charm blanketing it. Draco didn't want to look at what would happen next, but his morbid curiosity got the best of him.

Ghostly tendrils whipped out from the black lantern, the soft innocent glow of its little red flickering flame contrasting the white strands that attached themselves to the spectre.

Theo took a step back in fear as Myrtle howled, in pain and fear obviously.

He didn't know ghosts could feel pain.

Draco winced as the strands tightened around Myrtle, the wraps almost covering her entire form. Her cries were muffled as well.

She was dragged into the flame of the lantern, sucked away into nothingness.

Silence was restored to the space, the fearful breathing of Nott being the only obvious contender.

"What… what is that _thing"_

Theo didn't normally give out blatant demands, but he was suitably disturbed by the horrid device before him.

"A soul harvester" Harry said simply, receiving a pale face from Nott, "they can be traced back as far as the days of Morgana… horribly illegal I might add" he was pacing around the sinks, looking for something only he knew.

"The ones that old wizards would use to kill entire muggle towns?" Theo goggled at the obviously evil device. The same device that floated free of Harry's touch.

It was almost… whispering. There were whispers coming from it, indiscernible and varied, but-

"Don't look at it" Draco told him getting a startled glance from Theo.

The boy realised that he had already taken a few tentative steps towards the Lantern.

"Sweet Merlin" the boy hissed, forcibly moving backwards and looking away from the horrible creation, "muggles thought it was the plague? Right?"

Harry nodded idly as he leant down to inspect a specific tap, "some of them knew better. Wizards and witches would set up harvesters outside of their homes or muggle centers… they can be disguised as anything"

The Lantern suddenly vanished. Draco only caught a glimpse of the Sacclarius appearing before it was gone again.

Harry didn't need anyone else knowing about his war weapon.

"So what, we just came here for you to kill off Moaning Myrtle?" Nott was finding some bite in his tone.

Harry stood up from his inspection, studying Theodore as if he had said something particularly confusing.

"What" the boy grumbed, "I'm tired and I don't see the point of why-"

Harry hissed. It almost seemed normal with how casually he'd done it.

Draco couldn't help but laugh as Harry opened the passage into the Chamber of Secrets. Nott looked like his brain had been deep fried.

"We've got a lot to discuss" Harry said simply, gesturing to the deep hole.

Theo just nodded. He was currently incapable of words.

* * *

"Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets, created by the one and only, Salazar Slytherin" Ares swept his hands wide, gesturing to the large space in front of them.

Theo had been completely silent as Ares lead them past the largest snake skin he'd ever seen, past the very imposing and terrifying door… and then into what only could equate to a water logged basement of Hogwarts.

"Not much, is it?" Ares mumbled, seemingly disappointed by the space as he was walking to-

"Merlins balls!" Draco hissed, stepping back as he finally noticed the dead snake lying out of the pit of water beneath the statue of Salazar. He'd been focused on studying the architecture, the long tunnels which lead to seemingly nowhere. If he hadn't turned his head to where Ares was standing he'd only have noticed it until he stood on it.

The body was decaying rapidly, and if you strained your ears you could hear a slight hiss emanating from its body.

Nott of course, was interested, and walked with Ares to look at the beast of a snake.

"A Basilisk" Nott slowly stepped around the head, his gaze fixed on it, "it's magical properties have been bleeding away, so the venom is just…." he looked helplessly at the Snake then at Ares, "you weren't hoping to salvage it?"

Ares regarded Nott for a few moments, glancing to Draco, and then the snake.

He shook his head.

"A good idea, but no. We're here for something more important" his green eyes looked to the large statue of the Slytherin founder, "our group, the loyal ones at least, we'll be meeting here from now on instead of the room of requirement"

Nott felt uncomfortable, "the loyal?"

Ares rolled his shoulders, "not everyone is willing to commit to my goal. Voldemort and the Man in Black, both must be stopped"

Draco was idly casting spells at the hide of the beast, but he was still able to chip in, "it's not going to be easy. Hence why we can have our little training sessions in the Room, but here..." Draco looked around, " _anything_ can happen in this room"

Nott wasn't sure if he was okay with how harsh Draco delivered the word 'anything', but he was willing to throw his weight behind Flamel.

On top of his already undeniable Lord status, which Ares seemed to know next to nothing about, he was a _parseltongue._ That was as close to royalty as one could get in Slytherin house.

The Dark Lord was a parseltongue…

A coiled fear settled in Nott's stomach as he watched Ares. The cold stare, the willingness to kill, in Hogwarts of all places! His lack of care for those around him…

"If you want to say something, now's the time" Flamel had his back towards him, but could still somehow tell that Nott wanted to ask a question.

"How do we know that you won't go bad?"

Ares head tilted slightly as he studied the statue. Eventually he turned towards Nott fully facing the boy with his hands in his pockets.

"In all honesty, you don't. I can only make promises towards my goals, which remain the same…. But the line between Dark and Grey… it's a line I've crossed more times than I can count"

Draco opened his mouth but Ares shot him a look, still speaking.

"You've come this far in such a short time, Theo. I'd accept it if you wished to leave now" he smirked and looked to the room, "after all, this isn't some defense club, nor is it an extracurricular group"

He pointed to Draco, "we have one goal. Kill. Kill those that threaten the Wizarding World, those that would destabilize our Government, those that would control us from the shadows, you get the idea"

He shrugged, "I'm strong, so it's easy for me to declare this. But it's hard admitting I need help, which I do"

Theo noticed a forlorn look cross the boys features. He was remembering something, something painful.

"I could make a life for myself, carve my own path and live happily..." rage suffused his entire being, and Nott took an involuntary step back as his magic oozed into the air, creating a shimmer around his entire body.

"But that snake faced _bastard_ is still out there somewhere, and I won't rest until he's dead" his anger abated, and Ares seemed hollow for a moment after it had left him.

He was back to his occasional melancholy state.

"And if I fail? Well what's another body among foundations?"

Theodore Nott took only a few more moments to make his decision. Wand in hand, he opened his other hand a slashed the tip across his palm.

Ares was already turning away, his focus on the room at large.

"I, Theodore Nott swear on my magic and my blood-"

"What are you doing!" Draco hissed, shocked at the extreme method Nott was taking. A blood binding oath was not one uttered lightly.

"-to serve you alone faithfully, until the moment I or my blood, can no longer"

Ares turned around, his attention focused solely on Nott, who held his bloody hand out towards him. He could feel the magic of the bond. The other side of an agreement that could mean so much to him.

But instead, he focused on the boy that was ready to leap. His faith was being placed in him.

Practically gliding towards the boy, Ares wandlessly cut a line in his palm.

Nott clutched his forearm, and Ares clutched his, allowing the blood magic to suffuse between the two of them.

"I accept"

A brief splash of light erupted from their hidden palms, shining from behind where they were clasped.

But it wasn't the grand display of old magic that should be noted. But the assurity and loyalty in Nott's eyes, gazing unwaveringly at Ares…

Draco didn't know if he should be mad or happy about what had just occurred.

As their hands separated, Nott bowed his head and stepped back. Ares let the sides of his lips quirk up ever so slightly.

"Welcome to the inner circle," he said jokingly.

Draco laughed and Nott grinned.

This was just the beginning.

* * *

Neville Longbottom, the Dark Wizard hunter, groaned as he sunk into the warm water of the bathtub. His week had ended with enough scars and wounds. He deserved some downtime.

A small inn somewhere in near London had been his choice. The room was spare, the bathroom was basic, but Neville didn't need to feel luxurious.

To be perfectly honest he felt defeated.

The resting place of the Cup had been empty. Meaning in this world, Voldemort had already made it into his Horcrux and had it stashed within a vault at Gringotts.

A soft 'ribbit' came from his side.

Trevor was soaking himself in a small bowl of hot water, equally enjoying the warm liquid. His miniature battle armor lay off to the side of his little tub.

"We've made it buddy" Neville closed his eyes, thinking back to the events at the Department.

How could they have lost so much?

Before Voldemort went Berserk, a fairly even number of individuals from both sides had gone through the portal.

Something must have gone wrong though.

There wasn't supposed to snatcher team waiting for him on the other end. It was supposed to be Draco, Kinkaid, Ulric and…

Neville couldn't get the image of the spells colliding with both Harry and Voldemort at the same time.

They'd both gotten up, but he'd noticed the difference.

Everyone in the chamber had.

 _Ribbit!_

Neville opened his eyes again. Trevor wasn't moving.

"I know" Neville sighed.

If any of the others had made it back, they'd be continuing with the Horcrux plan. They'd start to hunt down each piece of Voldemort's soul they were assigned to. Neville had been an optional factor of the plan.

When they had arrived at the Ministry, Draco had outed himself as a spy in order to tell them what Voldemort was doing.

Instead of aiming to destroy the bastard, an opportunity was presented in the newly established portal.

They had only mere minutes to form their plan, and with Neville offering to hold back the Death Eater reinforcements, had written himself out of it.

Needless to say, he hadn't heard some of the finer details, not that there were many of those.

Last minute opportunities and what not.

But he knew the arrival points. He had selected where he'd be sent through the portal and where he'd show up.

A magical preserve, an old forest that had burnt down early on during the war.

Kinkaid was meant to have been there.

After dealing with the snatcher team, or whoever they were, Neville had needed some time to think through what had happened.

While he wasn't an expert in regards to warding, he did know a thing or two about enchantments. The corpse of Nicholas Flamel next to the shattered enchantment line by the Veil of Death was indication enough that the portal had been tampered with. Enough so that perhaps… perhaps he hadn't arrived at the right time?

Or the damage to the enchantment line had been far more severe… maybe they hadn't made it through at all…

He could be all alone here.

But that didn't mean Voldemort didn't make it through.

While still hunting for the Horcruxes as was the original plan, Neville would be on the lookout for any allied Travellers.

So his responsibility would be the cup.

Which was more than likely currently stored in the Lestrange Vault at Gringotts. This might be slightly difficult.

But Neville always did enjoy a good challenge.

 _RIBBIT!_

* * *

Cedric Diggory didn't know what to think about Ares Flamel. While they were all gathered within the same side room as before, when they had all been selected, Cedric couldn't evaluate not only his opponents but his team members as well.

More specifically… Flamel.

Sure the Hogwarts rumor mill had given him more than enough fine details on the boy, and even more biased opinions and outlooks, but he couldn't get a read on the kind of person he was.

Not in the sense that he couldn't distinguish him from others, but where he stood among Slytherin house and his presence to the school at large.

Many a girl had expressed some kind of heart throb for the tall, dark and broody boy, but with the way that Slytherin house had treated him, he was like a messiah.

Others were intimidated by his physical and magical prowess. The boy looked far older than he really was. Cedric would also be lying if he said he wasn't partially intimidated too, but he took solace in the fact that you didn't seem to really be _there_ for Ares if you got out of his way.

He seemed to treat people like… _threats_ or not a threat.

You could clearly tell when he had someone pegged as one, but not the other. Joseph Stone had apparently been a threat to the boy. Anyone with eyes and a good seat in the great hall could deduce that much.

Dumbledore… could also be one as well. Every time the Hogwarts champions convened or occasionally in the great hall, Cedric had seen a glare or two directed towards the headmaster.

The boy didn't know how to control his anger, and it made reading him far easier than Cedric had assumed.

But the Diggory heir was happy to have him on their Triwizard team.

Flamel was a powerful addition.

Rose… shouldn't have been able to enter. If Cedric was being honest, the girl was not up to par with the abilities of everyone around her. She was a capable duelist, a small powerhouse of her own, but was limited by her repertoire.

She wasn't ready for a challenge of this scale, which to Cedric made it even odder that her name had been selected by the Goblet, let alone added in the first place.

He honestly believed that there was no way she could have circumvented the age line that Dumbledore had created.

Ares must have been of a similar mindset because he shared that sentiment.

Diggory turned his eyes on the other contestants.

Fleur Delacour wasn't normal. Cedric knew that much. Her ability to get into his head had been noticed, but it definitely wasn't some kind of mind magic.

His Dad had told him what legilimency felt like, and what Fleur did… it was something of an attraction based magic.

Cedric would have to look into that later.

Her two teammates were non-descript, but there was something sinister in the eyes of the blonde. And it wasn't directed at the Hogwarts group.

Viktor Krum stood slightly in front of his team.

They were collected but cross. Except for the smallest of them. The Mikhail heir. He seemed to be trying to hide behind Krum's large and impressive frame.

Cedric couldn't believe that he'd been watching a world class Quidditch player recently, only to suddenly be against the same player in a life or death tournament.

Small world?

Aside from that, they were gathered together for a wand weighing Ceremony. Cedric had taken a small amount of time yesterday to read into the ceremony, and was happy to note that this wasn't anything more than a formal comparison of each of the champions magical attributes.

Anyone that knew anything about wandlore could deduce a lot from the components of an another's wand. Skills, proficiencies, right down to aspects of their personalities.

Not that Cedric didn't already have a basic understanding of where most of the people in the room stood when it came to how they acted.

"Sorry I'm late" came from the door just as it opened, "you wouldn't believe the floo traffic"

Ollivander.

Garrick Ollivander. Probably one of the most respected wand makers in all of Europe, if not the world. His family had spent generations owning their craft.

His long white hair framed a kind yet old face, but his pale silvery eyes seemed to take in everything around him, studying everyone in the space.

"Garrick" Dumbledore greeted, "a pleasure"

"Albus" the two old men shook hands as the headmasters exchanged pleasantries with the wandmaker.

Cedric noticed Ares shift ever so slightly beside him.

The boy had his same look of frigid indifference, but he could track the fact that he was staring at Ollivander.

Something about the wandmaker was putting Ares off. Flamel seemed to have a lot of preconceived notions of others.

Rita Skeeter had left in a fury after he stonewalled every question she tried to ask Rose. Furthermore when the others in the room took the same stance as Flamel, refusing to say anything to the tabloid journalist.

He seemed to know a lot of people already, and their reputations. So much for the theory that he had been raised by wolves on some hidden Flamel property. Lisa Turpin would be so disappointed to hear once he told Cho.

"Now, without further adieu" Ollivander turned to the room at large, having finished speaking with the Professors and Headmasters, his attention shifted onto the champions.

He approached the Durmstrang group first, moving his way around the room clockwise.

"Ah, Mister Mikhail, you're father hasn't come by for tea in a long long time" he smiled at the obviously shy boy, reaching his hand forward in a request for his wand.

"I'll pass along the request, sir" the small boy said, almost reluctantly giving over his wand to the smiling wandmaker.

Ollivander nodded with a smile and settled his attention on the wand, instantly shifting his focus and concentration. Cedric couldn't help but recognise the professionalism that completely took over the elder gentleman.

"8 and a half inches Oak, Unicorn hair" Ollivander deduced, "a strong wand for a strong wizard"

A sparrow appeared in the air. Cedric understood that Mikhail's skills were centered in conjuration. Rose was staring at the sparrow, a smile on her face.

She didn't get the reason for the wand ceremony it seemed.

Ares was blank. As per usual.

No telling there.

"Mister Lock"

The boy presented his wand with no words or fanfare. He seemed bored of the whole process.

"13 inches, Yew, and the tailfeather of a thunderbird!" A small storm cloud drifted into existence for a few moments, "bold and powerful!" Ollivander exclaimed happily.

'Duelist' went through Cedric's mind.

The boy would be difficult to deal with, if any of the portions of the tournament involved battles between the schools.

Ollivander was already moving on to the next person.

"Mister Krum"

The seeker already had his wand ready for the old man to inspect. Ollivander whipped the wand through the air, setting off another series of fire and sparks.

"10 and a quarter inch Hornbeam, Dragon heartstring" he smiled at Krum, returning the wand to the wizard, "a very good match"

In good nature, Krum nodded back politely.

The silvery eyes of Garrick had moved towards the Beauxbatons students, and his study of the firth boys wand, Matthew Arbour.

He too possessed Dragon Heartstring. Like Krum then.

The other was a bit of a mystery, but Cedric had him pegged for transfiguration by the Cypress and Unicorn hair combination.

Fleur Delacour's wand was 9 and a half inches of Rosewood… and-

"Veela hair"

Cedric finally connected the now very obvious dots. She was a Veela. That made a lot of sense. Especially her 'ability'.

A second later and Rose was having her wand examined.

"Miss Potter" Ollivander spoke with some kind of fondness, or old familiarity, he seemed genuinely Happy to see her again.

Even if she was a contestant for a perilous tournament that she was far too young to be a part of.

"Holly, Phoenix Feather core" Ollivander gave both the witch and the wand a fond smile, "11 inches. A beautiful wand, for a beautiful witch" a bouquet of flowers had sprouted from the wand.

The girl ducked her head, obviously flustered at the friendly old man, but Cedric had no time to consider this before what he now felt were unnerving silver eyes landed on him.

"Mister Diggory" the old man took the presented wand, surprising Cedric at the speed of his movements.

In no matter of time, "12 and a quarter inches, ash, Unicorn hair" was announced to the room at large.

Cedric would have been baffled by the man's actions. Why was he willing to speed through his own wand?

But it became clear as to what he was doing in the next few moments.

"Ares Flamel"

The name was stated with some unknowing. Ollivander was addressing the name of a person he'd never met before.

Flamel had not presented his wand yet, getting curious glances from everyone in the room. Dumbledore was the most subtle about it, but Cedric could tell the man had some questions about Flamel. The slight cock of his head confirmed as much.

Ollivander was responsible for talking through the silence as Flamel just stared at him.

"I was interested in knowing where you wand came from" the old man admitted, his eyes quickly glancing to Flamels wrist.

'He wears a holster?'

Ares cocked his head sideways.

In a blink of the eye, a pure black wand was flat on a pale palm. Cedric was startled by the speed at which Flamel could draw his wand.

"By Merlin" Ollivander brought the attention to the wand again. Everyone followed the man's slow movements as he carefully lifted the wand from Flamel's palm with both hands.

"13 and a half inches… Ebony" he was constantly turning the wand, moving it between his fingers and rotating it but never properly holding it.

"Highly suited for Transfiguration"

"And combative magic" Flamel spoke softly, his eyes on the wand, focused on it just as much as the old wand maker was.

"Indeed" Ollivander raised an eyebrow, "but the core?"

He frowned.

One could hear the hurried scribbling of Rita Skeeter in the background, but Cedric wasn't willing to pay the rabid reporter any attention.

His focus remained on the confused Ollivander.

Pale eyes widened comically, darting back between the wand and the Wizard it belonged to.

"By Merlin"

Ares remained mute.

"Basilisk Horn?"

Karkaroff flinched. Madam Maxime stiffened. Dumbledore frowned ever so softly. Cedric was curious to note that Mad Eye Moody did not react at all.

He barely noticed this however, as one of his third year history lessons with Binns slowly came to the forefront.

"Like the wand of Salazar Slytherin" Ollivander confirmed, "a masterpiece of its time. But Ebony would not have been a good choice for a core from such a…"

"Dangerous beast?" Flamel supplied, the frost in his tone and gaze taking a new meaning.

There were rumors… of Slytherin's new monster. A boy who looked human, but failed to meet up to any 'normal' expectation.

Cedric knew he was dangerous. He just never thought he'd be an immediate danger to those around him.

"Powerful animal" Ollivander corrected, his expression turning normal.

"This is a modified wand, custom made particularly for its user… I do not see the point of the grooves down the side however…"

"Those aren't meant for you"

Aside from Flamel being an imposing and young wizard, Cedric was able to take note of what Ollivander was studying. Indeed the wand did have small grooves running up its length. The cuts were tiny and almost snake like, winding around the length of the wand and meeting at the tip.

Ollivander continued to stare at him for a few more moments.

He swiped the wand through the silence, getting a snake from the end of it. The reptile shook of its confusion before realising where it was.

Rose almost locked up as the snake looked directly at her. Before long it turned its focus towards Ollivander and Ares.

Before it could do anything further it was dismissed by a swish of a wand.

Ollivander slowly handed the _masterpiece_ back to Flamel, looking to be suddenly deep in thought.

"An excellent and… diverse collection of wands" he stopped by the door, turning back to everyone there, "I expect this tournament to be one for the history books"

Upon his departure, every eye was on Flamel.

The boy lazily placed his wand back within the holster on his wrist.

"Can I go now?"

* * *

Severus Snape was in a bad mood. But then again, when was Snape ever in a good mood? His antagonistic rival and the jerk who bullied him mercilessly throughout school wound up marrying the one person he could ever honestly care for. The man who proclaimed himself to be a genial old man was a master manipulator that he was currently meant to be meeting with.

And some dimension traveling version of Lily's offspring had conscripted his service in some effort to thwart a world ending war.

Of the apocalyptic proportions.

On top of this, he still hadn't finished grading the third years essays. Monstrous little creatures could tell the difference between a Yharlnum tail and string!

Idiots.

Snape huffed as he swept around the final corridor before the bust of the Gryffin.

"Lamingtons" a little out of the way for Albus's usual selection, but Snape honestly couldn't care less.

The Gryffin hopped aside and Snape ascended the stairs, setting his face to default scowl #4, mixed with bored frown #6.

He stood before the Headmaster's door, composing himself with every bit of effort that he could muster from such a dreary day.

Frankly he'd rather be anywhere else, but Harry had made him organise this meeting with Albus for some reason.

Severus knocked on the door.

"Come in"

He didn't wait any longer, pushing the door aside and moving towards the Headmaster's desk.

"Ah, Severus" Dumbledore looked up from the newspaper he was reading, and while the grave expression he held for the paper had slipped away, Snape had managed to catch it.

He could also read the headline.

" _Another_ breakout by Lestrange?"

This couldn't be good.

"I'm afraid so" Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked at the Hogwarts potions master over the top of his glasses, "but this was not why you wished to speak with me today, is it?"

Curse that infernal twinkling.

"You told me to keep an eye on Flamel's temper… I've noticed something else" Snape still wondered as to the relevance of such a name, but he was told to report it to Dumbledore.

'Everything will be explained by the old man' Flamel had told him at their detention.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle had become something of an…." Dumbledore had gone pale, a look that Snape couldn't even find the words to describe.

As if every fear the man could have ever expected, was coming into play.

The old man schooled his features and looked down at his table.

"...an obsession for him. He wanted to know anything about him" Snape considered his words, watching Dumbledore for any more abrupt slips, but the Headmaster seemed to be in his own world.

"I found a book in his possession, one dedicated to-"

"The creation of dark objects?" Dumbledore wondered, his eyes still focused on the desk, a sombre pity in his tone.

Snape scoffed, "hardly. He wants to know how to destroy them. Now he's obsessed with finding a Basilisk"

The Headmasters demeanor changed in a second. While there was an undercut of sadness in his eyes, this was wiped away by the half quirk of a smile.

"A Basilisk? How intriguing"

Snape wasn't having that.

"Who is Tom Marvolo Riddle"

It wasn't a question. It was a demand. One that Dumbledore obviously wasn't expecting from Snape of all people. But he had asked it, and an answer was wanted.

Snape could tell that the headmaster was debating giving him the truth, or spindling yet another thread around him. That twinkle was always a dead give away. The old man enjoyed his little games sometimes, and Snape could honestly say that while he respected the intricacies that Albus Dumbledore had forged, the man was bloody annoying.

Something in his eyes shifted.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle became the Dark Lord Voldemort"

Snape almost lurched.

"A _halfblood?"_ he hissed, having done some small reading onto the illustrious Hogwarts head boy who had vanished, "the Dark Lord…."

Dumbledore nodded gravely.

Snape took a few moments to compose himself, to really consider what he had just been told.

Leaning back in his chair, he grunted slightly, the closest thing to a laugh that Severus Snape would ever produce.

"The irony of it all"

Dumbledore nodded again, "Indeed" he regarded some dials and devices on the wall to his left, "is there anything else you wished to tell me Severus?"

Snape thought for a moment, before finally concluding that he would dig for more, even if Harry had told him not to.

"Actually..."

* * *

Once again, Draco found himself alone and walking away from the Seventh floor, slowly making his way to the Library where the other two were probably waiting. However this time he wasn't leaving the room of missing things empty handed.

Under Harry's orders he'd been searching for the Diadem since their little 'training' group had begun to meet in the Room of Requirement, giving him an hour after every lesson to run through the vast storage space of Hogwarts lost crap.

But he'd found it. Placed upon a bust deep within the catacombs of stuff. He'd traced the ethereal line of white mist back to the exit once he'd collected the Horcrux.

Harry was beginning a collection of them, to be stored in the Chamber once they were all brought together. Draco had questioned him about why he wasn't destroying them on sight, but of course Harry had some secret ritual planned. Or something. He'd merely told Draco to "trust me"

There was always something more to his scheming, but Draco knew without a shadow of a doubt that even if he was preserving the shards of Voldemort currently, he'd be only using them to aid the destruction of the Dark Lord.

'Perhaps it has to do with the Man in Black?'

Possibly. Draco wondered about the little speech Harry had given Nott, about how not only Voldemort had become a prime target for him.

In fact, the Man in Black seemed to be taking up all of Harry's private efforts. His little experiments and solo study sessions were kept close to himself. He didn't even trust Draco with what he was doing. The topic of Voldemort and how to deal with him was discussed between the two of them quite frequently, but now that Harry had something else in mind, the topic must have been different.

The scope of the volatility of whatever he was creating was simple enough to understand. Draco knew of what the mysterious spook of the wizarding world could be rumoured to do. The Man in Black was no average wizard.

So he was glad that at least Harry was preparing himself appropriately.

People like Nott however…

The boy was a surprise. Once again Draco was reminded of how differently the boy acted to him now than how he would have in the old world.

No longer would Theodore Nott grow to be the spitting image of his father, but now he'd become his own individual, helping them take down the very same evil that in another life he'd willingly serve.

Perhaps Harry had felt guilty of what he'd done to the other incarnation of the boy.

There could be a myriad of reasons that he had accepted the Blood Vow from Nott, but Draco felt that out of any of them, that was the most prevalent.

And a Blood Vow?!

He had not been expecting something like that from-

"Malfoy"

All musing aside, Hermione Granger had practically come out of nowhere. She stood in front of the entrance to the Library, bag over her shoulder and obviously calling it a night.

"Granger" Draco nodded to her, aiming to move past her, but she stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

She was looking intently at him, and Draco couldn't help but sigh, "look, Weasley tried this before, and you're going to get the exact same thing as him"

Hermione seemed silent for a few moments, but Draco knew that intelligent mind of hers was running a mile per minute.

"You're different"

Draco cocked an eyebrow, "really? What clued you in on that?"

Hermione frowned, "do you want the full list or the abbreviated one" she removed the hand from his shoulder, stepping back from him slightly so to give him the option to walk away.

Draco stood his ground.

So Granger talked.

"Since the very first day we've met, you've made it clear that I desecrate the very ground I walk upon. A _mudblood"_ she hissed, "like me doesn't belong in your _perfect_ society. But that kind of hatred doesn't change overnight"

She was steaming up for a rant, Draco could tell, so he headed her off as quickly as he could, "but it did"

And this wasn't a lie. He could remember the moment he awoke in his bed, a cold sweat covering his face and limbs, the memories of the war pressing him down. The weight…

"I woke up Granger" Draco admitted, not really paying any attention to the look on Hermione's face, "I woke up because a good friend helped me to"

"Flamel"

Draco could hear the condemnation in her tone, but frankly he couldn't care less.

"Call him what you will, I don't fucking care. Neither does he" Draco looked into the Library. Ares couldn't see him.

"But the truth is, to all the prejudiced, discriminated and downtrodden of our pitiful little world, he's the hero we need… not the one we deserve"

And Draco felt oddly triumphant by striding away from a startled and surprised Hermione Granger. He may have been laying it on a little thick there, but he did believe in his words. Flamel would prove it.

* * *

She found him by the lake. While the days started to shrink, and the nights grow colder, Rose couldn't really seem to care for once. Ares had left her a little note again, at Dinner. Saying that they could finally have their little chat.

 _The Lake. Tonight_

And he stood there by the lapping water, watching the black surface with critical green eyes. Rose had approached him slowly, noticing how he didn't even seem to recognise she was there.

Not even a nod in her direction.

But he did speak to her. He promised he would after all.

"My parents were murdered by the Dark Lord, Voldemort when I was just a child" he didn't move, hands still loosely hanging from his pockets.

Rose blinked once, fully absorbing the words he had spoken. His attitude was… confusing for a person with such a history. But he wasn't done talking of course.

"Since then, his continued existence has done nothing but bring pain to my life. He is responsible for what I have made myself… he is responsible for who I have become" he looked to Rose now, familiar green eyes studying one another, "and I want him dead"

So this was it.

Ares Flamel had dedicated himself to the murder of a Dark Lord. The big secret behind him. Lord Voldemort was…

The scarring. As a child. He must have suffered those as a child.

Rose felt something welling up in her throat.

"You're not really a Flamel then? They adopted you?"

Ares shrugged, "more or less" his lack of care caused a pang of sorrow in Rose's chest. She couldn't understand the kind of hurt that this boy had gone through, but she could start to. She was ignorant to his hatred, and the foundation of it, merely seeing another bad man ready to do bad things.

But was it really a bad deed if he wanted the embodiment of evil dead?

Like the wizard at the World Cup, the one who would not let the Death Eaters slaughter indiscriminately, to let them leave _unpunished._

Like that Wizard, Rose could condone their actions. Murder was wrong, but when people could not be swayed away from the Dark…

Sometimes you have to put a rabid dog down.

"Do you know who your old family-"

"It doesn't matter" he said definitely, "they don't matter anymore. They're dead, and I'm not"

"That doesn't mean you have to forget them though" Rose pointed out, and Flamel turned away with a smile.

"I don't. I never knew my parents but I carry them with me every waking second… I have" he paused, idly rubbing his arms, "good reminders"

The scarring. Rose felt ill again.

"I'm sorry that something like that happened to you" it was honest and heartfelt. Rose couldn't imagine what losing anyone in her family would be like.

Even Sirius, Lupin or Tonks.

But here was someone who had no one. Who had decided that he wanted blood in exchange for the people that had been ripped from him. Blood, in exchange for a life stolen from him.

"So destroying Dark Lords huh?" Rose got a sudden turn from Ares, who was now staring at her.

She gave him a bright smile, "I'm somewhat of an expert at that" she smuggly stated, "a whole two time Dark Lord Vanquisher"

Ares said nothing.

Rose felt a little silly for holding her smile at him, but eventually he spoke again.

"Any advice?"

Rose snorted and punched him in the arm, "trade secret I'm afraid"

'Bloody hell he's solid'

Ares gave a good and hearty grin, "unfortunate. I'll have to come up with my own flashy way. You're way must not be that good if you've had to use it twice already"

And in that joke, Rose understood a bit of reality. She softened and closed up, drawing a confused eye from Flamel.

"He's not really gone… is he" she kicked a stone into the lake.

Ares drew in a breath.

"No. No, he's not…"

Rose hadn't really accepted that possibility up until this very moment. Something about the tone of his voice, the sorrow in his eyes, and the regret that covered his features… he didn't want it to be true as much as she did, but that was the thing about reality.

Sometimes you just have to face it.

How was she supposed to face down the greatest Dark Lord to ever exist? One that inspired fear by his very name? How was she-

"None of that"

A hand pushed her chin up, getting her to stare into the eyes of a much closer Ares Flamel.

"Rose Potter" and from the way he said her name, Rose couldn't look away.

"From the moment I decided to mess with you on the train" her cheeks heated slightly, but he continued, "I have seen the will of a person far greater than my own. It is a daunting task that fate has handed you… and you're running in the dark, with no one to help you"

His hand slipped away and he stood before her, at his full height.

"Let me run with you, Rose" he cocked his head sideways, "and when the time comes, I only ask you let me be the one to kill him"

Finally noticing that her heart was beating a mile a minute, Rose nodded, letting herself inhale and exhale.

Flamel smirked at her, and Rose suddenly realised that he was perfectly aware of what he had been doing to her.

She kicked his shin. Flamel winced but kept smiling.

"Prick" she grumbled at him.

"Brat" he jabed back with, holding out his hand for an agreement.

Rose sighed dramatically as she shook his hand, "I suppose I'll have to share some of my glory"

Ares rolled his eyes but smiled anyway.

A deal with struck, and a friendship was partially established.

Unbeknownst to both of them, a small beetle flew away from their little rendezvous, its destination the temporary room of sensational journalist, Rita Skeeter.

* * *

The room was covered in white. For a morgue, Hargreave considered it far too bright. Especially for a facility that dealt with bodies which technically didn't exist.

The caretaker appeared, next to him, his eyes on the muggle cold storage but his attention was definitely focused on Hargreave.

"Warden. What can I help you with?"

Hargreave didn't turn to the pale Diener, instead, he stepped forward into the large white space as he spoke.

"One through Eight, on the tables"

"At once" the man bowed at began to open the latches for each of the storages with his wand. Each body was brought out slowly and floated in the air.

Hargreave took a few more moments to study them.

The corpses of travellers. Through time and space. They had passed over to another reality just to escape the horrors of their world.

But they had been betrayed. Some of them, atleast.

After Joseph had come through, they prepared for each of the following Travellers. Joseph had explained that he was in fact one of Hargreaves spies in this alternate world. He was one of the many individuals that had been planted within the forces of Lord Voldemort during his second rise to power.

By studying how he had entered to his world, Hargreave had been able to apprehend the following Travellers.

The ones loyal to the Dark Lord had been dealt with immediately. Memories were extracted, truths were revealed, and the state of the war had been analysed through their experiences. Their lacerated and scarred bodies were separated from the others.

Ulric, a powerful werewolf and a beast of a man.

For how violent he had been described as, Hargreave found it oddly poetic for him to be so still in death.

A man that had been a tricky catch, but was eventually caught trying to escape from Knockturn alley.

Joseph's information had lead to his capture and death. Hargreave had not been expecting the muggle cyanide pill.

He'd died before they could get anything out of him.

The other hadn't been so lucky.

Armed with this knowledge, Kinkaid was caught, tortured and gave up only a few secrets. While it was so damn impressive, it was also furiously annoying for a man like Hargreave. To be so close to an answer, only for their subject to collapse into insanity.

But now with Joseph's body among them, they were the proof of another world. Their existence, to show that they had lived culminated in a floating corpse on a table.

"Destroy them" Hargreave ordered, turning away even as the caretaker agreed.

The only thing left of the other world, was ash.

* * *

"Are you just going to stand there, or would you like to train with me?"

In all honesty, Fleur was content with watching his scarred skin move and flex with his working muscles, but now that she had been ousted…

"I suppose" she declared arily, walking into the same clearing that she had bumped into Flamel before.

His routine was vaguely impressive. At least it gave her some kind of indication as to why he was so physically imposing, aside from good genes. Handstand push ups wasn't something considered conventional for a wizards workout routine, but from what Fleur could tell, the British magical community didn't seem to hold to the standards of physical fitness that other magical communities did. Flamel seemed to be a boundary pushing kind of person anyway.

"Or…" Flamel stood up, wiping a layer of sweat from his forehead, "are you here to talk?"

Fleur's silence was an answer of itself.

"I figured" he rolled his eyes, turning away, "look, my wand is freaky, I get it, but just because-"

"Why do the scars not bother you?"

That seemed to catch him off guard, his gaze narrowing in slight confusing, "what do you mean?"

He wasn't expecting her to come talk to him about his old wounds. Rather, he believed she was here to talk about his basically illegal wand.

Perhaps some of the others had approached him about it, wondering why he had it, or how he did.

But Fleur wasn't trying to learn his secrets. She wanted his confidence. Maybe if she knew the answer, she could begin to repair herself, just a bit.

She gestured towards his chest, but she was referring to the horrid destruction of his skin, "how can you expose yourself so easily, without…" she was at a loss for words.

Flamel seemed to get it then, because he smiled simply at her, "because I'm not hiding who I am. Unlike you"

He was referring to her glamour.

She knew it. She knew he was, because he eyes dropped down from hers ever so slightly. With any other boy Fleur would assume he was ogling her, but with Flamel… he wasn't so simple.

"You were at the World Cup, weren't you? I heard some important dignataries had been furious about the attack… especially the French Ambassador"

Her father.

Fleur refused to talk.

This boy knew. He knew her shame, the one she only shared with her friends and family. Even then she couldn't tell them the truth. About how being marked by sick monsters was tearing her up.

"It'll never heal. No matter how much you wish it to, that mark will be with you for life" his smile was damaged, but he didn't convey any sorry or pity. He understood. Or maybe… maybe he knew better.

"It will haunt me forever" Fleur wanted to snap, but she felt tired.

"Let it haunt you the right way though" Flamel held up a hand, and Fleur stopped a second before calling him an ignorant pig, "let me explain"

He gestured down to his own cuts with both hands, "let it remind you that you lost. That every day of your life you had one weak moment… and let it remind you that you'll never fall for the same shit twice"

Fleur remained silent.

He was… this boy was annoying. His attitude was frustrating, his childish actions towards her annoyed her, and he didn't seem to take her seriously.

He dipped into a pushup, falling to the floor.

"You're doing it wrong"

He stopped mid dip, and looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Like this" Fleur walked over to him and began her own exercise. And like that, the two of them trained together until it was time for breakfast in the great hall. Silence was the only thing they needed between the tips they traded with one another.

* * *

 **And that's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please feel free to drop a review, follow or favourite. For those of you that follow my other stories, I'm sorry to note that I will be suspending them until I reach a point where I am comfortable to take a break from this one. Right now though, the hype is still strong with me, and I want to do nothing more than to update this story once a new idea hits me.**

 **Gotta give me some time to articulate my thoughts and what no ladies and gents, because I'm hoping to give you a quality piece of writing here.**

 **STILL LOOKING FOR HELP.**

 **Help challenge is listed in the challenge before. Once again, thank you for reading.**

 **Have a great day!**

 **Freedom.**

*M.O means Modus Operandi. It's a latin phrase which translates to how one does things (roughly)


	9. Chapter 9

**My god. I'm sorry this took so long. I hope the length at which I've made you all wait makes this worth it. Aside from all the regular crap, same old extended author's note will be at the end.**

 **Much love.**

 **Freedom.**

* * *

 _ **The Next Salazar Slytherin?! The Girl Who Loved?**_

 _My dearest readers, it has been far too long since my last publication and many of you have wondered where I have been. But fear not! Rita Skeeter has once again unearthed the secrets that lay hidden in our society. Just recently I was allowed the privilege of board at Hogwarts for the duration of the Triwizard Tournament. Using my new location I set about learning as much as I could about the beloved champions of England, and there have been secrets abound. Garrick Ollivander arrived at Hogwarts just yesterday as the impartial judge for the wand weighing ceremony. At this very event, Ares Flamel, the secret heir of the world famous Immortal Alchemist, Nicholas Flamel, possessed an interesting wand. Ollivander himself declared the wand to be almost identical to that of Slytherin houses founder, the mysterious and Dark Salazar Slytherin. Those of you that did well in your Magical History O. and N.E. would know that-_

Harry stopped reading at that point. Skeeter seemed to be on a slander campaign, one that probably originated from a desire for drama and controversy. Something that seemed to draw wizards and witches in like a moth to open flame. While eating breakfast, Harry assumed it was almost sick how everyone was lapping up the news. Taking some perverse pleasure in whispering to their friends, throwing him glances and pointing.

"The next…"

"I heard that…"

"He's downright…"

"But he's so…"

Harry tried to block out the room at large, getting frustrated by the sheer number of people that glanced at him. He knew for a fact that many witches and wizards possessed less than legal wand cores, and if the old world was as similar to this one, a few students had also obtained their wands through very illegal means. Mainly to have an underage trace removed, but definitely outside of the confines of their precious law.

Finishing off the scrambled eggs and toast, Harry looked towards the hufflepuff table. Cedric currently had his head down and was in a deep discussion with his friends and housemates. It appeared that they wished to grill him on what he knew about the 'monster' of Slytherin.

Harry wanted to growl at the sudden reminder of his new nickname.

Instead he settled for a scowl and glanced around at the people still looking towards him, forcing many to avert their eyes and refocus on their meals.

Fools.

At least his fellow Slytherin's didn't judge him for it. In fact, it just made him seem more impressive to them as a whole.

Daphne looked like she wanted to explode restraining the effort from speaking to him. Tracey Davis looked caught between mortification and amusement at her friend's plight.

Draco, Theo, Pucey and Hector just ate silently.

Blaise Zabini, a more recent addition to their little dueling group at the room of requirement had been more than welcome. His lack of obvious care for anyone and everyone was refreshing.

He held his cards close to his chest and Harry could respect someone like that.

It felt odd to admit that Slytherin house was far more welcoming than he had imagined it to have been in the old world. But like the Hufflepuffs, the Snakes stuck together through thick and thin…

They'd only stab each other in the back when no one could prove it.

It wasn't like Harry would be wanting to seek refuge with his former house anyway. A part of the plan not only required him to be in Slytherin, but to start severing the ties between future Death Eaters and their 'Lord'.

So for now he could only subtly observe his old home, with the same faces that haunted his dreams, preventing him from sleep.

Except someone was staring back at him with a fair share of embarrassment and shock.

One could also describe Rose's face as horrified, but frankly he was more confused on why it was set that way than to really be able to describe her expression.

'What did I miss?'

He cocked his head slightly and changed his glance to questioning.

The girl had been holding his eyes up until that moment, before suddenly averting them. Harry had noticed her face go beet red before however.

Ron was shooting him a dirty look and Hermione didn't seem to impressed either.

"So is it true then?"

"Tracey!" Daphne hissed at her friend's breathless question.

Harry took a moment to turn to them, imperially observing their expressions. Tracey naturally shrunk under the scrutiny, but Daphne held her head high.

The girl had quite the backbone. It was more than respectable. Admirable if you asked him.

"You'll have to be a bit more specific"

Tracey's jaw dropped and Daphne's eye twitched. What the hell is with everyone today? Shock, panic, fear? It's just a wand for Merlin's sake, it wasn't like-

"Finish reading the article" Draco chimed in, idly cutting through some salmon.

Harry's eye twitched.

Snatching the paper out of Daniel's hands, he flipped it back to the front page, continuing from…

Where… he… left off….

The paper vanished in Harry's hands within a spout of fire. Many people gave startled gasps from around him. Others stood and craned their necks to see if 'Ares' had finally snapped.

"Oh she's dead" Harry hissed, standing from the table and striding out of the room.

Hector slapped Daniel over the back of the head.

"What was that for?!" the boy hissed, rubbing his noggin in anger.

"Next time get your own bloody paper"

"Hm" Theo nodded through his bagel.

* * *

Sirius Black sat in his cubicle, watching in bemusement as his best friend, James Potter, proceeded to turn red, white and green all at the same time.

"This… this can't be..."

Sirius snatched the newspaper from his pacing friend, holding back a chuckle as James continued to wear away the floor.

What a shock the article had been.

Now, Sirius knew he hadn't been any better when his little Persephone had discovered boys were a thing, and knowing that if someone like him could exist… well boys would be boys. Natural father instincts had kicked in, generating fear and panic in his body.

He had supervised his daughter like a hawk after the first 'he's cute' comment she'd idly made, and now it was great to see how James would handle it.

Young and sweet Rose was finally growing up.

Sirius could only wish that perhaps the photo in the article of Ares Flamel and Rose Potter standing so close together for the wand ceremony wasn't because they were already _dating_.

He fought back a gag. As the girl's dogfather, he didn't like the word at all.

Saying it aloud might even give James a stroke.

"Of all the boys!" James was still ranting, lost in his own world, "why not Ron?! At least they're childhood friends"

James sighed and buried his face in his hands.

"Flamel is… an interesting character" Sirius said calmly, noticing the look of malice that James shot him for the comment.

He continued on, "but, and I hate to say it, he's got a lot of good will surrounding in name from the pureblood groups. They don't like him per-say, but their children do"

James was about to comment, before his mind screwed up and he looked stupidly at his friend.

"What? Do I got something on my nose?" Sirius rubbed his face slightly.

"You've been attending parties?"

"Yeah, so? A young bachelor my age-" James fought back a grin that Sirius ignored, "should always be on the lookout, never know what might turn up"

Now Sirius wouldn't admit to James what he'd really been doing. His own investigation into the Joseph Stone 'accident' had drawn his attention to any individuals at Hogwarts. He suspected foul play, and the only people who would be capable of doing such and getting away from it..

You guessed it.

Slytherin house, and the very many dark and wealthy families that resided within it. Flamel was one of his prime suspects at the start, but Sirius had waved him off after he'd gotten word of the boy's priorities.

The Pureblood circles were probably talking about the boy far more than Flamel realised. His 'declaration' to Slytherin was common knowledge among certain individuals.

In fact, it had been discussed frequently between Sirius and many of the event goers he had bumped into.

Lucius Malfoy had remained silent on the topic when he'd drifted by Sirius and Lucius's wife talking about it.

"What am I supposed to do?" James moaned, "what if they-" he went pale.

"Far too young for that" Sirius dismissed.

"And when did we first start?"

The Black Patriarch remained silent.

"Exactly" James stood from his desk, "Lunch break starts now so I'm going to go discuss this with Lily"

Sirius held back a laugh for the sake of his friend's pride at the look of determination that crossed his features.

Only James Potter could be so worried about his daughter potentially dating a Slytherin.

But what Sirius didn't know, was that James had a meeting with someone else already planned.

* * *

"Look, it's not that I think we shouldn't be out here, but how exactly is sneaking through the forbidden forest going to give us the clues for the first challenge?" Cedric sighed as Rose powered ahead, cutting past trees and bushes in her pursuit of an unknown goal.

Rose groaned and dropped her head back for a moment, looking up at the sky with exhausted eyes.

"Because Hagrid wouldn't lie to me" she almost doubled her pace and Cedric had to jog for a bit in order to catch up.

"I know he's your friend, but-"

Rose stopped and rounded on him, an accusing glare in her eyes.

"But what?"

Cedric knew he had stepped on some very sensitive feelings with the first half of his statement, so he back peddled a bit, hands up in the air defensively.

"What if you're just reading into his words too much"

Rose continued to stare at him blankly.

Something hooted in the distance but both of them kept their eyes on the other.

"I mean what if..."

"In my first year, Hagrid invited us over to see a dragon he had illegally purchased. In our second, he gave us a hint towards Slytherin's monster. In our third year, Buckbeak, his pet hippogriff saved me from Rodolphus-"

"I get it" Cedric sighed, "I'm just creeped out is all"

Rose huffed, spun away from him and started walking again.

"We'll know what we're dealing with when we see it. Hagrid hasn't lead me astray before and he won't-"

Cedric blinked in surprise as Rose suddenly vanished.

"What the…"

Suddenly reappearing again, the girl back peddled into him, almost knocking them both to the forest floor.

She was breathing heavily with fear in her eyes.

"Dragons"

Cedric didn't react at first, giving the girl a curious look. Seeing the doubtful and inquisitive look, Rose promptly aimed to change it.

She took him by the hand and dragged him through the invisible ward that covered a patch of the forest.

Three great beasts.

Three large cages.

Three teams of handlers.

"Dragons" Cedric muttered, "it just had to be dragons"

* * *

"...at the black lake, where a secret rendezvous between Ares Flamel and Rose Potter occured" Draco read, a smug smirk on his face as Ares groaned into his hands, "my dearest readers, while I was unable to catch the words exchanged between the two of them, it is-"

"No more" Ares slumped back into the common room chair, getting a few smirks and snickers from those around him, "please"

"And spare you the embarrassment?" Draco raised a superior eyebrow at the him, getting a very undignified snort from Theo, "never"

"None of us can beat you magically" Adrian had a devilish smirk across his features, "so your pride is an easy target"

Ares sighed again, slipping further into the cushion of the chair a light frown on his features.

"It wasn't even like that" he complained into the silence, "just a meeting between… acquaintances"

Everyone noticed the dodged term of friends, but none of them called him out on it, even if by the cringe on his face Ares realised they all spotted it.

They still had some respect for him. Those that stood with him still had faith in his decisions.

Except for one.

Who felt the need to question him.

"Any reason why you're having secret liasons with the Potter girl?" Rookwood pointedly asked.

Draco and Harry both knew who the boy's father was. They knew who he served, and what he fervently believed in. Rookwood was merely a younger version of his father. Hot blooded, eager to serve, and most certainly devoted to the same master as his progenitor.

Changing him would be a difficult task, if not insurmountable.

The only question was, if it would be worth the effort it would take.

Harry and Draco had discussed this in private. Because the reality of the situation was that while Ares Flamel inspired respect, awe, some fear and admiration among those of Slytherin…

The terror of Voldemort was far greater. The fervent belief that the Dark Lord would return was much more powerful than the promises of a Fourth Year Hogwarts student, regardless of how powerful said student was.

Some would not be turned… others would fight against him. Names and faces of those in Slytherin came to mind, but Ares moved that out of thought for now, returning to the question at hand.

"We share similar goals" Ares idly remarked to those around him, but his gaze settled on Rookwood, "you wouldn't have a problem with her, would you now?"

Daniel bit back a sneer, but decided not to say anything further. His ideas of blood purity had been challenged extensively, and even if he was beginning to see some interesting muggle insights such as hand to hand combat, this was far away from a shift in his entire perspective.

"Well it makes sense as to why everyone thinks you two are up to something" Theo remarked, dragging the tense atmosphere away from the two opposing ideals.

"Rita could make it look like Dumbledore was having an affair with Grindelwald, and the people would believe it" Hector spoke up from behind the book he was engrossed in.

Harry and Draco shared a subtle glance, both trying to hold back a grin.

If only they knew…

"Flamel"

Cold. Commanding. Self assured.

Ares turned his head slightly to see the figure of Daphne, arms crossed over her chest with a frosty look on her features.

"Yes?" he replied airly, maintaining an attitude of utter relaxation.

"A moment of your time, your _Lordship_ " she practically growled, sarcasm layered through the sentence.

Ares cocked an eyebrow, but nonetheless committed. With an over exaggerated effort of drawing himself up from his chair, he sauntered after the quickly disappearing Greengrass Heiress.

Draco, Theodore and the rest watched in bemused silence as Ares followed after the obviously grumpy girl.

* * *

He was definitely following her. She could hear his calm steps from behind her, slowly following after her much faster ones at a sedated pace.

They had left the common room, and much to her annoyance many had seen him acquiesce to her demand. Oh the gossip mill would be running already.

But let them talk.

She'd never give them anything anyway. And at this point she was fairly sure that Flamel wouldn't say anything either.

They were almost out of the dungeons now, and Daphne still wasn't sure where she was taking him. It had been a whim of the moment. She wanted him alone so she could express her displeasure at Rita's article.

Not that she believed that Slytherin's 'monster' would be in any kind of secret or _forbidden_ relationship with Rose Potter of all people, but Ares didn't deny his meetings with Rose at breakfast. So Daphne was able to conclude at least that was true.

That in itself was enough for Daphne to feel her position threatened.

Flamel was still a mystery. But she was piecing the clues together. He obviously held some kind of hatred for the practitioners of dark magic, more specifically the dark lord.

His speech to Slytherin house in its entirety was some kind of mission statement. A declaration of war if one read between the lines deep enough.

And while Daphne was sure she wasn't extrapolating too much from his non committal words and pointed statements, she was fairly sure he was investing most of him time into becoming a more powerful wizard.

A powerful wizard that she had a crush on.

It almost stung to admit.

But she had to face the music eventually.

Tracey was right. She'd never admit it to her best friend, or anyone else, but Flamel held some kind of magnetism that just drew her in. She was helpless to resist.

Ever since she'd spotted him in Draco's study at the party which seemed to be years ago, she knew she'd fall.

Well, at least a small part of her did.

But unlike the other girls that might fawn, smile, laugh and drape themselves over him… or atleast try to, Daphne would use her tact and wit. She would carve them out with her tools and talent. Father had been a harsh teacher, one that demanded no weakness from his daughters. She would be worthy of the Greengrass name, in all manners of life.

And the idea of anyone else taking her prize right from under her…

Unacceptable.

"We've past by a few empty classrooms already" he had gotten so close to her without Daphne even noticing.

This just further reminded of his ability.

"If you wanted to get me alone, a corridor after curfew isn't the best place" his tone held a light sense of humour, but the way he mentioned curfew suggested that he truly didn't care.

To her, she could at least admit privately that he was terrifying.

Rounding on him to stare up into the intense green eyes, which held far too much mirth than usual, dulled her fear.

But he was still a monster.

The monster she wanted. She sighed internally, feeling the need to somehow delay the headache that would be coming.

"I didn't want any open ears" she said calmly, fists clenched by her sides.

He nodded, gestured to their right, and then followed her into the room he had indicated.

Daphne glanced around the classroom, taking in the quiet space with an air of caution. Flamel and her were alone. Alone without the chance of anyone else coming for them.

Traceys words about Daphne getting him into a broom closet bounced into the forefront of her mind before she dismissed them.

Such thoughts were not appropriate for now.

"So, what's wrong?"

Daphne was once again reminded of how close he stood to her, his words soft and his gaze light. Not worried, but not the same cold indifference he usually wore.

"I'm displeased"

He snorted, "that much was clear. About what?"

Right to the point then. Daphne went directly for the throat in response.

"Sneaking around with Potter is a sure sign of mental instability, especially from a Slytherin"

Ares cocked his head, the foot of space between them giving her every detail of every expression on his face. He was a master at schooling his expressions, but sometimes he let certain emotions slide.

He was confused right now.

"I thought by now you'd understand that I am no regular Slytherin"

Cool. Collected. Calm.

He wasn't going to be pulling his punches either.

Daphne reminded herself that he never did. Persephone had learnt that the hard way.

"Everyone knows that. Potter is still bad news however. Wherever she goes, danger follows" it was true. The Rodolphus Lestrange incident still sat clear in everyone's minds.

He smiled softly, "being the killer of a Dark Wizard does that to people"

"Who you chose to spend your free time with is none of my concern, but keeping you out of trouble? A friend can worry about such things"

"And we are friends?" he wondered airly, a small twinkle in his green eyes.

He was enjoying this. Daphne glowered.

"I would have assumed so, but if your _Lordship_ will not have such a-"

"Don't mock me"

There he was. The predator. The beast that lay just beneath the surface. He'd come up for air in only a moment, but Daphne had spotted the ferocity of that statement, the burn in his eyes.

"I was joking"

"I'm sorry" she muttered, "but perhaps you should be seen with better company"

And it was gone. Just like that a casual air had returned.

"I believe I spend most of my time-"

She cut him off, "I was talking about myself"

A small grin twitched onto his face, "how interesting. You think that Draco and Theodore are not sufficient? Pucey and Morrow are too simplistic for the company I should keep?"

Daphne didn't strike him. Even if she wanted to.

He had already pieced together what this was about. He knew what her intentions were, and what exactly she wanted.

"Hogsmeade weekends are coming up soon" she grit through her teeth, "I expect you to accompany me"

He chuckled softly, slightly leaning back from her as he considered.

She slowly bowed her head, and her elegant posture stiffened under the tense silence. Even when he broke it, she felt the need to curl in on herself.

"A bold demand" he was juggling the idea, and Daphne remained silent as he thought through it.

Here it comes. He'd seen it all coming and he'd determined that she couldn't be of any use to him. Well, maybe Potter was just-

Finger tips far softer than she had imagined them to be tilted her head up suddenly. Daphne was forced to look right into his eyes as he spoke again, a smile on his features.

"I accept"

With grace and a gentleness she'd never expected, he took her from the room, cast a few spells on them both, and in silence they left.

Even as they walked side by side back to the common room, Daphne refused to admit to the heat in her face. Or the smug smirk that rested on his. She walked bunched up, arms crossed over he chest, face pointed in another direction.

He had his hands in his pockets, and the most carefree expression she'd ever seen on him. Not that she was sneaking glances at him…. Not at all!

He was laughing as they entered the Slytherin common room.

Bastard.

Tracey was waiting on the other side of the entrance. She turned as it opened to reveal the two of them.

One glance at Daphne, before her eyes shifted over to Ares… and she knew. It was instinctual, but the girl knew.

Scratch that earlier remark about Ares having a smug grin.

Tracey's was unbearable.

Ares sauntered off back to his group, leaving the two friends to sort out whatever it was they wanted to talk about.

"Well?" the word was stretched for far longer than it should have been. Tracey's smug mug didn't help either.

"Shut up"

* * *

The first challenge was already closing in on him. Aside from the general excuse he was able to use for most of his classes, Harry had taken to increasing his training tenfold. A few talks with Dumbledore had even occurred due to his excessive use of battle oriented magic.

Karkaroff was of course worried about him. He'd been drawing comparisons between Flamel and his former master ever since the wand weighing ceremony.

Harry hadn't believed it was anything too serious until he had spotted a Durmstrang student following him in the corridors one day.

Subtlety was never the ex-death eaters specialty but Harry had been distracted, taking him longer to notice the tail. His distraction was well placed.

Cedric had already confirmed for him that the first task was dragons.

Just like last time.

But unlike last time they were flying blind. Not to mention the whole teamwork orientation of the task.

But the cages hidden in the Forbidden Forest which held the dragons had been charmed to hide exactly which species of dragon they contained.

Any species really.

Harry was willing to wager good money that someone had still brought in a Hungarian Horntail.

"There's not much to worry about, especially for you"

The airy tone and light quality had alerted to him who the person was. He had heard them approaching long before, but had determined it was a student.

He had been putting off this meeting for awhile now.

But stuck outside resting by the edge of the lake, Harry didn't possess the energy to escape Luna Lovegood.

She stood beside his flat form, looking out across the lake as he stared up at the sky. So what if he was lying down in the dirt? He was sweaty and tired.

Luna remained silent, expecting a response.

Harry didn't have the heart to give her the cold shoulder. Not Luna. Never Luna.

"Not exactly sure what you mean by that Miss…?"

She was startled by his response, as if expecting him to remain silent, "oh, I'm Luna Lovegood" she sat next to him, eyes still fixed on the lake.

"What brings you around here, Luna Lovegood?"

"Hmmm" she wondered, pulling her knees up to her chest, and resting her crossed arms on top of them, "you wouldn't believe me if I told you, Ares Flamel"

Oh… so there were some differences from his Luna. This one wasn't as firm in her beliefs as the other.

"I like to think I keep an open mind Miss Lovegood"

"Wrackspurts"

Harry couldn't help but smile, "that would explain the headache"

Out of the corner of his eye he'd never seen Luna turn her head faster. Her gaze had snapped to him instantly, taking in every detail about him… as if she had finally realised he was there.

It was… interesting.

But he couldn't look back at her, not yet.

Not now.

Unbidden, the memories once again rose up. The hollow shells of buildings. The bodies. The blue fire…

A splash of green light.

And the poor girl who had moved in its way.

Luna Lovegood had died saving his life. Without any hesitation. Without any cause or reason. She had seen the ambush coming, and had concluded that Harry had to live. There was no way the team would had survived without him.

The proof had been evident in how quickly Harry had dispatched the Death Eater headhunter team.

But Luna's cold corpse had been their only reward.

"You're in so much pain"

Those words brought him back to the present. To the much younger girl that would only ever be a shell of the person he had known.

Luna Lovegood would grow to be a powerful seer. Like many of the others lives that had been cut short, he wouldn't allow her name to go down in a death toll.

She would survive this time.

He finally looked to her, able to meet the eyes of the person that had sacrificed themselves for him.

"You have no idea"

He turned his eyes back to the clouds, the build up of liquid slowly abating. He'd save his tears. Now was not the time to mourn.

She left first, noticing the dipping sun.

Harry left later, his thoughts focused on the first task that would be held tomorrow.

* * *

Her magic had been breached. The wards were down. Someone had just forced their way through them. Only her Lord was capable of such magic… but as he was one of the few names allowed access to her domain, he had no such reason to eviscerate her defenses.

Her straw hut was left behind in moments, her feet moving softly and quietly through the forest.

She began to hum, commanding the many creatures and spirits she controlled to aid her defense.

From the wood of the trees, animal spirits rose, fangs bared and claws pointed in the direction of the intruder. Along with the water wisps and the serpents, they followed the hundreds of lives that flung themselves into the approaching threat.

She breathed softly from behind her mask, ignoring the howls and screams of pain from the many lights that were being extinguished. A whisper of a spell was let into the air, and a pure copy of herself bolted into the woods.

She melded into the bark of a tree, covering herself in protective magic.

Eventually, the howls stopped.

They were dead.

A shadow passed by her hidden form, obviously tracking the copy she had created.

Whoever was hunting her had not detected her, nor had he or she noticed the concealing magic.

From behind her illusions, she peaked into the eerily silent forest.

No creatures chattered. Nothing chirped. There was no life. She had commanded the life to protect her, and the life had died.

What a waste. A jolt of power hit her, returning from the illusion that must have been destroyed.

A flicker of shadow moved out of the corner of her eye.

"There you are"

Her clawed fingers swiped up, aiming to poison the male voice with but a scratch. A dismissive flick of a finger yanked her from the tree, sending her sprawling through the mud.

She twisted through the muck, coming to her hands and knees, more comparable to a tiger than a human.

The vines and roots of the forest rose up at her command. She would die fighting.

"You know I've travelled a very long way to get here… Supay's gate does take a toll on the body after all"

The forest which rose so readily in her defence, fell just as easily in her awe. This was another Traveller. This was the one that had figured out how to travel. The one who bridged the worlds.

This was…

And the Shaman spoke, "Lord Voldemort"

The red eyes remained focused on her, and in the shadows which protected his face, she could discern the beaming smile.

"My dear Shaman, when I first dealt with your little _council_ in the other world, you were the only one who had managed to evade me so well. It took me years to find you in South America" she noticed how his feet hovered off the ground, keeping the bare white souls from actually touching the ground.

"But I found you nonetheless. You completed his orders you know?" he seemed airly and happy, even as he toyed with the strange wand between his fingers, "the gate? You figured it out. It is completed by twelve sacrifices, from each of the twelve months. Who knew Supay would be so _meticulous"_ he hissed with a smile.

The Shaman narrowed her eyes, still curled and ready to strike.

None of the council had expected Lord Voldemort to have made it through. Everyone else that had come through, they had come before the portal had been forcibly collapsed.

They never saw the conclusion to the duel between the so-called Boy Who Lived, the other worlds alternative to Rose Potter, and the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Her tattoo's glowed, and this elicited another swipe of a wand. They stilled, returning to the normal black ink that they were.

"Now now" he tutted, swiping again. In an instant the very same roots and vines which protected her turned on her, swallowing her and submerging her entire body beneath the mud.

Only her head remained. She glared up at him from beneath her mask, fury coating her features as he slowly stepped up to her.

Still from a position above her, he crouched down and gently ran a few fingers across her mask.

"I must apologize for what I am about to do, but your little council remains as troublesome as ever… we wouldn't want your lord getting suspicious, would we?"

He chanted as her mask was removed.

The Shaman was finally able to get a good look at his face as he moved closer.

In the instant she recognised him, so too was her free will shredded. His objectives became hers. His orders became her commands. She would be the second of many to bow before him.

Lord Voldemort smiled as the Shaman was freed from the mud. He suggested she return to her home and continue on with her little project.

She complied and stumbled off, the last traces of any flight leaving her as she disappeared into her little hut.

Now to check in on Rodolphus.

In a flicker of light, he vanished.

* * *

Harry had separated himself from the other Slytherins. He'd eaten far earlier than all of them, having requested food directly from the house elves of Hogwarts. Something that Cedric had apparently done as well, for Harry found him waiting by the large wooden stadium that surrounded the first task's setting.

Snape had told him where to go. He assumed that the other teachers and professors had informed the other champions of such details.

Cedric seemed surprised at Harry's arrival, almost as if he expected him to have shown up later. Harry ignored the expression and began to study the individuals he could spot. Far above was the lip of the tournaments seating area, and the shapes of men and women moved about or stayed seated.

At this distance, anyone else would need magical assistance in order to discern who they were, but Harry did not.

He could see a few Aurors and shrouded figures, those that he assumed to be the dragon trainers and handlers.

There were a fair few more than the previous time, which drew him to one uncomfortable conclusion.

"Flamel"

Harry switched his attention to Diggory, wondering if the boy was just as prepared as he had been in his world.

"Diggory" he walked beside him, stopping just before the champions entrance, "you're the only one here?"

Cedric gestured to the tent flaps of the champions entrance with just a finger, "Beauxbatons and most of Durmstrang are already inside" his face soured, "Ludo Bagman is also here"

Bagman. A man with smaller pockets than the wealth he proclaimed. His debt would be the end of him.

At least little things didn't seem to change so much.

"You're prepared right?" Cedric glanced off to the castle, where a small figure with red hair was rapidly approaching them.

Harry watched Rose stumble and fought back a frown. The poor girl was going to trip. Had he been this excited and clumsy in the previous world?

No. He hadn't been excited. He'd been scared. Terrified. In his world he'd had Death Eaters and the Ministry out for his head. But Rose?

Rose saw this as a chance to prove herself to the impressive number of people that loved her. To each and every person that stood with her.

Because Rose wasn't alone. Here in this world, she had everyone around her, a family, friends, support…

Harry looked away, focusing on Cedric.

"Dragons" was all he would say, and he swept through the tarp.

Whatever charm lay across the doorway muted all outside noise and interference. His ears were immediately treated to the Beauxbatons contingent speaking in french, and his eyes spotted the stoic and quiet Durmstrang students.

Viktor Krum and Vladimir Lock.

Mikhail was nowhere to be seen.

It was a smaller space than before.

No places to sit, just a few tent poles that supported the structure above them. Ludo Bagman stood off to the side, reading through a very small book with a monocle over his right eye.

Hmm.

"Flamel" the French abated for Fleur to address him. Her eyes had a soft glint in them, something that Harry deemed oddly out of character for the girl, no matter how changed she was in this world.

He tilted his head in response, his green eyes settling on her blue ones.

"You are prepared, no?"

Harry smiled, "you're the second one to ask me this"

Fleur frowned, "that is not an answer"

"Dragons" he dismissed lightly, catching Bagman's twitch out of the corner of his vision. The man was definitely paying attention to them all, but at the same time was hurriedly studying the book he held.

Rose Potter, Cedric Diggory and Anton Mikhail swept through the entrance. Harry didn't bother to turn and look at Rose, but he did settle back into the group that her and Diggory formed.

Mikhail hurried over to Krum, obviously muttering an apology to the boy. The Lock boy sneered at the younger, but said nothing else.

Ludo Bagman snapped his book shut, and as everyone turned to look at him, a jovial smile spread across his face.

"Welcome champions!"

No one said anything.

Bagaman continued speaking, ignoring the frosty attitude of everyone present in exchange for his obviously rehearsed speech.

"Today, the schools of Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons had pitted you all together to test your merits. In this coming test, you will each select the opponent you face. How you defeat this opponent is up to yourselves, but needless to say, you are all graded individually. Bonus points can be awarded for those that perform well with others" Bagman conjured a small table that rose up to his chest.

"And today's task, is…" three black bags appeared on the table, "Dragons"

The little bags almost seemed to shift and move in response to the word. Harry wouldn't put it past Bagman to have charmed the miniatures to move one command to certain words. And while he was an obnoxious man, he knew how to scare people.

Those in the room that found it far easier to succumb to their emotions and fear did so, through nonverbal ways, but the occasional shifts and moving of feet gave it away for Harry.

More than a few of them were unsettled.

Who wouldn't be?

Dragons were notorious for leaving incredibly high death counts.

"Now each bag contains a representation of the beast that you will be pitted against" Ludo spun the table on its top with a flick of his wand.

Harry got the idea and approached a side of his table. Krum and Fleur did as well, each of them standing an equal distance away from each other. The others followed behind their group members, watching as the table slowly spun to a stop.

Harry reached for the bag and held it closed in his hand, instead watching the others in the room open theirs.

A sigh of relief wanted to make its way up his throat as Krum produced the miniature for a Hungarian Horntail. Maybe his luck was finally beginning to catch up, now as Fleur was retrieving the Chinese…

Her tiny copy of a dragon was not the Chinese Fireball.

The scales and dark body were unmistakable.

A Hebridean Black. Fleur looked horrified. Two of the nastiest and cruelest dragons to ever exist. Massive territorial beasts…

Harry glanced down at his small little bag, an ill feeling seeping through his stomach.

"Well Mister Flamel, that leaves you, Miss Potter, and Mister Diggory with the final beast"

Harry opened the bag and let the small model flop into his palm.

The dragon's scales were a pale yellow, the color of sand. It displayed a strong and powerful form with a long body. Its short tail and neck were covered in thick skin and corded muscle.

That alone let Harry know what Dragon it was. Even before Ludo Bagman announced it to the Hogwarts group of which beast they would face, Harry knew.

Colin Creevey had been eaten by one of these.

"Last but not least," Ludo cleared his throat, his tone shifting from joyful to serious. Celebrating the deadly beast that might in fact kill these children was not the best of ideas.

"The Egyptian King"

Unlike most Dragons, the Egyptian King has thick and long limbs with four splayed digits on each foot that end in long claws. The scales are bunched closely together, giving it an almost insectoid look.

It has wide-set wings running from its shoulders to its lower back. The dragon's head is slim but majestic, a wide skull with a large fan behind it.

Droopy eyes that are fashioned into a frown, and pine-green iris's dominate its face. From memory, Harry recalled that the dragon has strange membranes that function as ears.

Two horns extend forward from its forehead and Ares couldn't help but liken it to an ancient triceratops. A dinosaur. Egyptian Kings were old dragons. Some of the more infamous and larger ones were dated back to the age of Merlin.

A bright yellow glow burned through the horns of the enchanted replica.

Of course. They did have a tell.

The horns glow as it builds up the flame. Even as a miniature model, he felt a slight pang of fear. The last time he'd gone against one of these it had almost cost him an arm. They were not playing around for this tournament.

* * *

The crowd cheered, gasped, yelled, clamored and screamed. All for Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Hogwarts was the last group to go up against their challenge.

Harry had discerned that Durmstrang had done very well. Talk of Mikhail's support had drifted in from above. Krum and Lock had been an impressive front line, and this had culminated in the other school subduing the Horntail for long enough to collect their prize.

Three eggs. One for each student. No student could fail, but to achieve any high number of points they were required to collect the eggs.

Which was something Fleur and one of the pretty boys had barely managed to do. Durmstrang had walked away with all three eyes, Beauxbatons had gotten two, and now Hogwarts would be up.

Diggory had tried to rope him into some kind of planning event, but Harry wasn't having it.

As soon as the older student would try and take over with 'experience'... well than he'd be useless. This was no offense to Cedric, but the boy had only heard the rumours about Ares Flamel. He did not know about the pit, nor did he know anything about his capabilities. Harry was somewhat glad that the boy did not subscribe to the train of thought that everyone else at Hogwarts had, but he was annoyed that in this situation it would be damaging for them.

Diggory did not believe that Harry was as powerful as others suggested. He knew Harry was strong, but he seemed to refuse that Harry could be dangerous.

If only he knew…

So the boy had been conversing with Rose, coming up with a quick tactic in order to not only survive, but hopefully succeed.

He was a good leader though, straining to Rose that survival was far more important than winning.

"And now!" the announcer called from outside, getting both Rose and Cedric to stand, "the Hogwarts Champions!"

"Let's do this" Cedric breathed out.

Rose gulped, but Harry could see her tighten her grip around her wand.

This would be interesting. He gestured for the tarp of the tent, asking them to lead the way.

They all stepped into the bright enclosure and thundering applause.

* * *

Daphne had watched with awe and spats of horror as Beauxbatons and Durmstrang went head to head with dragons.

 _Dragons_.

Now, Flamel, Potter and Diggory were supposed to do the same thing. Against an Egyptian King.

The enclosure had been changed again, the rocks forming into sandstone, and the dirt changing into the coarse grains. Daphne hated sand. It just got everywhere. Not to mention it was rough.

Tracey whistled and cheered like those around them as the Hogwarts champions emerged into the now Egyptian landscape.

Almost instantly Daphne tried to fight back a smirk. Flamel looked bored. Rose Potter seemed to be on the edge of her wits, her eyes darting in every direction, trying to spot the dragon.

Diggory seemed calm, but even from here, Daphne could see his shake.

Not that she would be any better. Egyptian King's were aptly named, and aptly registered as perhaps the fiercest dragon in the world.

"What chances do you think they got?" a voice behind her whispered to their neighbour.

"Flamel will carry them" the other replied, "Slytherin's beast wouldn't know anything 'bout losing"

Daphne tried not to smile at that, she really did.

But she couldn't help it.

After all, she agreed.

* * *

The sand reverberated slightly, like a hum was coming from it. Cedric somewhat knew what the was. How the King's found their prey among the dunes.

Like shards of glass, orange energy sunk into the sand, splashing around their feet. Rose and Cedric turned towards Ares, who had cast the spell.

"This will give you some time" was all he said, before being blown away into the wind. He had vanished. Completely. Cedric's eyes went wide, while Rose looked between where Flamel had stood and the Hufflepuff.

"What was-"

A roar pierced the air, followed by a huge bout of flame. Rose looked towards the body of the dragon which crested over the closest dune.

It's intimidatingly large head was focused on something else.

"It appears that Ares Flamel is engaging the beast! He is trying to buy time for his compatriots! A valiant effort!"

Rose and Cedric shared a glance, before they hurried off into the constructed desert. Flamel was going to buy them time.

They were to retrieve the eggs.

* * *

Dumbledore watched as Flamel conjured a vortex of wind, absorbing the dragon flame into the cone. The fire colored the wind tunnel a second before it was flung back at the towering beast.

Even as the creature reared backwards to crush Flamel beneath its weight, the boy was moving.

A large piece of sandstone was transfigured into a strange elongated object which Flamel alighted onto. A second before the large feet came crashing down on his insignificant frame, he was whisked away.

"Incredible control and transfiguration from Flamel! I am being informed that he's riding a muggle surfboard!"

And Flamel was riding it through the air. Quite impressively Albus would add. A subtle spell informed him that the boy was using a plethora of wind charms to keep his ride floating.

But he hadn't stopped there.

While keeping himself afloat, he also flung spell after spell into the head of the beast, retaining its deadly attention.

Claws launched into the air, clasping for the boy who slid between their crushing force.

He was quick on the board.

The dragon's horns glowed an even deeper shade of red than before, and Albus watched as the torrent of flames erupted into the air.

It was a huge net, one that Flamel faced head on. The boy would not be escaping from this. Dumbledore watched as time slowed to a crawl. Ares face showed no fear. There was no imminent danger to him.

Albus remained seated and calm as the fire seemingly swallowed the boy.

Gasps of horror echoed out from the people, everyone yelling and screaming at the sight of death.

The fire slowly started to abait.

"Flamel has been caught! Ladies and Gentlemen, this might be… wait! He's still alive?!"

And the announcer had the right to be suitably shocked. Flamel floated away, the trace of his shielding spell drifting away.

Albus had caught it however. The red sheen of the shield was only noticeable to those that had dealt in such magic.

As a younger man, he had. But he would not have expected it from one so young.

Albus narrowed his eyes.

Nicholas Flamel had extensive knowledge of blood magic. It appears that he had passed that knowledge onto his son and heir.

Albus leaned back, spending the rest of the task studying Flamel.

* * *

Ares flipped through the air, his hand slowly sealing up as he spun past another spout of flame. While he hadn't expected to be so clumsy on a board, that was what he deserved for not having practiced as much as he should have.

The usage of blood magic to enforce the shield, hell the shield itself, shouldn't have been necessary if he hadn't been slacking as much.

With a growl he righted himself, firing off twin blasting curses into the King's face. One caught the nose, leaving a gash in its wake. The dragon howled and turned, ducking its features at the sudden and instinctual reaction to pain.

The second spell detonated harmlessly on the back of its frill.

Taking the brief respite as a chance to check on his allies, Ares twisted to look for Rose or Cedric. A moment later he found both of them merely a few feet from the nest. The Potter girl was looking right up at him.

Good, no he wouldn't have to-

A huge shadow covered him. He didn't have time to react properly. All he could do was turn.

Ares saw the gigantic wing of the Egyptian King a second before it swatted him out of the air like a fly.

The crowd went silent as his body smacked against the Dunes.

* * *

Rose watched in horror as the beast sent it's incredibly large wing up to Ares. In an instant, the boy was sent shooting through the sky. His impact was hidden by the dunes, and Rose found herself only capable of staring in the direction he had flown.

The dragon twisted itself up, and slowly turned its head towards them.

"Rose, take the eggs and run!" Cedric shouted, dropping his egg and transfiguring two beasts of glass, sand and rock.

The large cats would be useful for a moment, but Rose felt herself lock up under the approaching monster. The dragon roared, finally noticing the creatures in its nest. It ignored the little speck it had swatted, turning its attention to those that would harm its children.

And Rose couldn't move. Cedric was already meeting it head on, casting his own spells and magic in futility. Fire and a very large claw crushed his creations, and his own magic managed to take the dragon's attention for a few moments. It meandered past him, the defense of its nest far more important than the insect that tried to slow it down. Idly, it swung its tail once it was past the small thing, sending the tiny form careening into the dunes. Broken and shattered. A meal for later.

And Rose found it again. The anger… the hatred.

She felt it well up within her and suffuse her entire being.

Her core couldn't take the sudden build up of magic, and Rose Potter knew that the only way it would be leaving her was out the tip of her wand.

A wand that found itself pointing at the beady green eyes of the beast.

It would not take her. A spell that her mother had taught her only to use in the most dire of circumstances burst forth.

The dragon was forced to weather the pure lightning that Rose Potter controlled.

* * *

Dumbledore was a second away from intervening. Flamel was either injured or dead. Mister Diggory was most certainly injured, as Albus had a clear view of the boy struggling with a broken leg and arm.

Rose was currently casting an elemental spell… one that he had seen Lily use during the war.

Her wild red hair was flickering behind her, and Dumbledore was certain that if her mother was allowed to attend the first task, she'd be both proud and terrified.

But Rose was running out of steam.

The beast had growled and howled at the electricity, but as the spell slowly tapered off, it's horns began to glow, signaling the next wave of fire.

And hence, the headmaster found himself on the edge of his seat, ready to apparate into the conflict and protect his students.

From the corner of the space, a soft glow of magic tracked his eyes for a moment.

Like a wraith, a cloud of ghostly white mist exploded out from where Flamel had landed. The cloud didn't waste any time, sticking to the dunes as it zoomed across the sand, hurtling towards the beast and the girl.

Dumbledore sat back into his seat comfortably.

Flamel was alive.

* * *

Rose's magic finally tapered off, and the beast raised its entire body to roast her in its horrid fire.

Some say that you see most of your life just before you die, that it flashes before your eyes. Luna had told her a story that this was actually memories of every past life she'd hand, each culminating in the next. This event was also to mark her next life.

But Rose saw and felt nothing.

Perhaps it was the magical drainage? The spell had only marked the dragon, scarring its face, but she had put everything into it.

For what it had done… for killing her friends.

Everything had gotten to her in that moment. Her horror, her fear, her worry… it had all culminated in anger.

The same emotion that her parents and Dumbledore tried time and again to lead her away from.

So as she was about to die, Rose accepted that she had failed them, one last time.

But the fire never came.

It was a cloud of white mist that appeared around her and ultimately caught her hazy mind off guard. Even as she was beginning to slip into unconsciousness, Rose got a good look of the bright green eyes and black hair that had materialized out of the mist.

Her father and godfather used that spell in training… so did most of the Order...

But Ares Flamel would never be a more welcome sight, even as he caught her in both arms before she fell.

Rose's last thought was that this would be in the papers tomorrow.

* * *

Flamel created a pillar of earth, sending it careening into the jaw of the dragon. The beast's jaw snapped shut and its head was forced skyward by the projection.

Fire spilled from between its closed teeth, and the dragon eventually opened its mouth to the sky to release the rest.

Ares slowly laid Rose to rest on the ground, and both he and the dragon turned their attention on the other.

Even as he began to cast his spells, the familiar board forming beneath his feet, the dragon lunged for him. An earth-shattering gravitational spell sent the creature careening into the sky. Ares was pulling out every stop for the duel.

And it was a duel now. He was putting himself against another mind. This was the taming of a beast, this was fighting a thinking creature.

Because the creature was definitely intelligent. Every memory he had of these things was of their brains, rather than their brawns.

Even as they left the ground behind he wondered if the beast could comprehend a slight to itself. If it had some primitive sense of honor, shame or humility.

As he drew the dragon away from Rose and into the skies, Ares wondered if the creature felt shamed for what he had done to it. That it now needed to get back at him for such an attack upon its person.

Not much was known about the Egyptian Kings at this current moment in history, and the willingness to allow one into the tournament said enough about the British Ministry's institutionalised idiocy than anything else ever could.

If this race of dragons was susceptible to Voldemort's control, than perhaps… a thought entered his head.

Ares ignored the cries and calls of the people beneath him. On the edge of his adrenaline fueled senses he could detect various individuals on brooms.

Dragon Handlers.

They were hanging back, however.

Dumbledore probably had something to do with that. The old man must want to see what he was capable of.

Ares turned around on his board as it surfed the clouds, easily spotting the tail and ridge of the dragons back as it searched for him.

"Excaal!" he intoned. And the clouds were exchanged for storm clouds. Rain began to fall from them, and the grey clouds shifted to black and angry.

Dashes of lightning threaded into the dragon and down to the earth. He'd get only one chance at this.

Ares made a beeline for the head of the furious beast, minimizing his profile so it wouldn't see him. The wind was blowing in the opposite direction of his approach, so between the lightning and the electrically charged air, it would neither hear, see or smell him.

This was his chance.

Landing on the large head, Ares's board was thrown into the air, forgotten.

Two large green eyes looked up to him, and followed him as he slid between the horns to land on the snout.

The look of surprise in the beast's eyes gave him all the confirmation he'd ever need. In the howling of the wind, the lightning that still struck, Harry James Potter, under the guise of Ares Flamel, uttered a single word. A single spell.

"Legilimens"

* * *

The gravitational spell caught many off guard. Not only did it shatter the wards that kept the dragon enclosed within the space, but Dumbledore felt for a moment the power that rolled off Flamel.

Such a spell would never get someone like Albus to sweat, but he was a fully grown wizard, with a developed core and a lifetime of practise. Not to mention an exceptionally powerful wizard, something that both him and young Ares seemed to have in common.

Flamel truly was incredible. He was leagues ahead of his fellow students. Albus was reminded of how Nicholas wished the boy would receive an understanding of others, rather than magic.

The boy goaded the dragon into the sky. His impressive magical work getting the beast's attention and keeping it.

He saw the head of the Auror's signal the Dragon's keepers into the air, to follow after the beast and hopefully prevent further carnage.

Bagman was suggesting that they enter the field to retrieve both Miss Potter and Mister Diggory, but was cut off by the attention that everyone gave to the sudden thunderstorm that appeared above them.

'Ares' Albus wondered, 'what more are you capable of?'

Through the sudden rain and lightning, Albus watched a large shadow plummet from the sky. Even as the ever so sudden storm was beginning to let up, Albus tracked the Dragon's huge body as it collided with the earth outside the stadium.

The earth shook and people fell from their seats.

After a moment of silence, many people shot to their feet, clamoring and calling as they stampeded for the exit. The Dragon keepers disappeared to go check on the dragon, while the Auror's made evacuating the stadium easier for those involved.

Dumbledore gestured for Minerva to check on both Potter and Diggory, who had two eggs clutched under his arm.

The other arm lay broken and shattered by his side.

Madame Pomfrey would be furious with him, but Albus shifted his attention towards apparating.

He appeared in front of the downed beast alongside the other Dragon keepers, trainers, specialists and whatnot, each bickering over what had happened.

They were casting restraining charms and protections to keep the unconscious beast tied to the ground.

So engrossed in their conversation, they failed to notice the figure that limped out from behind the frill of the beast's skull, and made his way towards Dumbledore.

Ares Flamel would have collapsed into the torn up dirt, but the Hogwarts headmaster caught him.

Many people were starting to notice Flamel being held up the aged professor, and talking and whispering broke out. Students that were making their way back to the castle had stopped to point and shout.

Many heads were turning their way, but the tired boy had only one thing to say to Dumbledore.

"If that isn't worth 10 points, I'm transferring"

He passed out to Dumbledore's genial smile.

* * *

 **And that's a wrap! I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. The small announcement for this one is that I'll be taking a bit of time between positing chapters. Seriously though, I've got a lot of things I should be doing right now, and I can't keep coming back to this sight in order to post chapters on a consistent basis. My plot extends forwards to roughtly 20+ chapters, but currently I only have content until about 15, so until a later date, I'll aim to keep you all informed.**

 **Those that review, shall be rewarded.**

 **More chapters to follow.**

 **Best of days,**

 **Freedom.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you so much for the reviews for the previous chapter. In return for your support, here's the next chapter! It took a few days to crank out a lot of the content for this one, but eventually, I managed to do it.**

 **I hope you all enjoy!**

 **Best of days, Freedom.**

* * *

It was probably the beds. Harry didn't know he'd hate it so much, but the softness of Hogwarts beds just didn't sit right with him. Even the hospital beds. Probably because softness and comfort wasn't a commodity he was used to.

But then again, waking up was a gift in the first place. He'd slept through artillery shelling, air raids and thunderstorms.

To be woken from a good sleep because it was too comfortable… Harry didn't know whether to be mad or just laugh.

But first, evaluate.

'How we feeling?'

When his eyes snapped open and he bolted upright, not only did he understand how much of a bloody awful headache he had, but that his body was in a lot more pain than it should have been.

Trying to meld minds with a beast would do that to some.

Falling from a great height after said attempt?

Double 'owe'

"Oh fuck" he hissed, falling back into the pillows reluctantly. He succumbed to their softness, even as his sharper than normal ears picked up Madam Pomfrey bustling her way over to his cott.

"You gave us all a right scare Mister Flamel" she announced herself before she stepped through the curtains, probably to let him know she was coming in.

Common courtesy.

Draco could learn a thing or two from her.

"Did I?" Harry grumbled, "wouldn't have guessed"

Poppy tisked at his tone but ultimately said nothing, instead opting to check him over with a series of diagnostic spells and charms.

"Everything's in order. But we'll be keeping you under bed rest for awhile, no doubt your bones are still settling" she left a second later.

'That was… quick' Harry thought, because usually Poppy would wait a bit longer to see if her patients were-

"He's awake, I'll give you all fifteen minutes at most. Any ruckus and you're out"

Oh.

Draco was the first through the curtain, followed closely by what seemed like every walk of life that 'Ares Flamel' associated with.

"Ares" Draco smiled as he stood beside Daphne on the left side of the bed. Both of them cast a look towards the other visitors.

Rose Potter, Cedric Diggory and Albus Dumbledore stood calmly on the other side.

"Hey" Harry nodded to them all, turning his eyes towards Dumbledore after a moment, "professor"

"Mister Flamel. It's good to you see all patched up my dear boy, but perhaps I can save our little chat until after you're friends can catch up with you" Albus smiled serenely. His eyes were twinkling again.

'Of course he wanted to talk with me'

"Certainly professor"

The Hogwarts headmaster nodded at the others before giving them their privacy, stepping out from the curtain.

He'd only come back one the others were gone.

"You're fucking crazy"

Rose instinctively punched Cedric in the arm. Hermione would never forgive her if she didn't dish out punishments for foul language.

Draco snorted, "you're just realising this?"

Daphne didn't look impressed, but the veneer of worry colored her features just around the surface.

"What you call crazy I call necessity" Harry muttered, closing his eyes for a moment and forcibly pushing the headache back.

"Dumbledore told us what you did!" Rose practically gushed, "you saved my life Ares! You also-" she stopped speaking as her mind caught up. Her head snapped down to the ground, her eyes breaking contact with his as fast as possible.

"What?"

Daphne huffed, turning her head away from him dismissively.

Okay….?

A newspaper was in Draco's hand in an instant, headline pointed toward the only bedridden individual.

'The Beauty and the Beast! Ares Flamel-'

Harry dropped his eyes down to the photo.

Rose was being held in his arms, the Egyptian King fiercely standing in the background of the image. A compelling photo to say the least.

"Oh for Merlin's sake" if Harry could have slumped further back in the bed, he would have.

Draco's cheshire grin threatened to split his face, "I'll be sure to regale you about it later"

"Especially the part about how you nearly lobotomised a Dragon" Cedric dragged the point around full circle.

"Excuse me?" Harry asked, feigning confusing.

"Apparently the dragon has been acting strange" Daphne stepped in, "the handlers told Diggory that it was subjected to some very powerful mind magic. It hasn't been responding to any of their commands or orders"

"So it's been what? Mentally scarred?"

Rose and Daphne frowned, Cedric's face was oddly blank.

Draco cleared his throat at Harry, getting his attention.

"Dumbledore tested the beast. He said it must have come from you"

Harry went silent. They knew now. Dumbledore would have informed them, or anyone at least, that he had used mind magic on the creature.

Perhaps that was why Poppy had been so skittish? Because she knew he could read her mind in a glance.

"You're a legilimens"

Cedric didn't ask. He stated.

Harry nodded. It was undeniable anyway. Anyone with a brain and a minor understanding of the more complex magics would know what it meant to be a practitioner of the mind arts.

"How good?"

But to what degree?

Any amount of skill in a magical topic, an individual's proficiencies, changes the essence of what they practice. In the case of the mind arts, one could skim the emotions on the surface of another in the barest form of the magic. A more proficient and powerful wizard or witch could subtly implant thoughts and commands.

Harry rolled around the opportunities in his head. The truth? It could be valued very highly in this situation. Would they all trust him afterwards, if he told them the truth. If the lie was exposed later, how would he mend any of the bridges broken, the trust shattered, if he didn't tell them.

Had he already burned everything? If Rose knew what he'd done to her.

How he'd manipulated her mind. Would she ever forgive him? Would she understand that he was just trying to protect her… to keep her safe.

No.

She wouldn't.

So perhaps the truth was the only commodity left?

Did lying actually benefit him anymore?

Within the first few days back, when he had seen the world fixed, whole and complete, he'd decided he do anything to save it. There was a line and Harry would cross it in order to save the world, but now was it worth it to cross the line?

Having spent enough times with the shades of his friends, enemies, and the people he once knew… no. The line was there, and it was going to stay there.

He wouldn't manipulate them from the shadows. The foundations had already been laid. There was no further need to lie to them anymore.

"Very"

At least, not a lot...

Harry met his gaze, feeling a pang of pain as the Diggory heir looked down at his own feet. Harry looked towards Draco, who just shrugged helplessly.

"You've got a lot of surprises under your belt Flamel" Daphne had a cold air around her tone, and Harry wasn't sure if it was because of the others, or that she'd found out something shocking about him.

"Who knows?" 'What kind of impact are we looking at?'

Draco caught the hidden meaning of his question, even if Harry had mumbled it as quietly as possible, seemingly forlorn that his secret was out.

"Only a handful of people. People who won't spread it" he glared at Rose and Cedric. The Hufflepuff shifted uncomfortably, while the Gryffindor stared at her feet.

If Harry played his cards right, they wouldn't.

"Is there anything else? Anything we should know about?" Cedric worded the question, but in the instant he started talking, Harry knew the query had come from Rose. She was the curious one, the one who needed to know.

The look of fear but concern was blended perfectly. It was what gave it away. That she was invested in him now. She would count on him.

Just like he had done with Sirius… Dumbledore… Ron….

Dead men and women.

Harry looked to the ceiling, "a few things, but nothing that'll invade your privacy"

Cedric nodded, "we're stuck in this tournament together Flamel. I'd prefer that we could work together as well" he gestured to Rose, "you saved both our lives, and you got two of the three eggs through. We're just behind Durmstrang, but I don't care about that"

Cedric lifted his shirt up, revealing his waist and the lashes that were healing. Points of the Egyptian King's tail had done that.

"I'm more concerned about getting out of this alive"

"Of course" Harry tilted his head down briefly, "I would make a vow to you, but my magic is all screwy right now" Harry let a spark travel between his fingers, "something about attempting to read a dragons mind?"

Diggory snorted.

Rose smiled.

Daphne let the ice cool off, and Draco sighed in exasperation.

"For what it's worth Flamel" Diggory turned to leave, pushing through the curtain halfway. He turned his head back to look towards the injured wizard.

Their eyes met. A strong stare, one that warned against any more funny business and secrets, but also a sign of trust.

"Thank you"

Harry dipped his head as the boy left.

"So, now that he's sorted" Harry turned his tired gaze to the others, "who's next?"

Rose shifted slightly, and without hesitation Harry's eyes snapped to her, "Potter?" Draco and Daphne fell in line with his decision, turning their heads to the girl. Rose shut down slightly under the attention, coughing into her hand, eyes cutting down towards the end of the bed.

"Rose"

She looked up at Harry, all wrapped in bandages and a soft smile on his charming face, "it's alright. What's wrong?"

"I'm weak"

It was blunt, straight forward and horribly accurate. The pain on her face gave away how hard it was for her to admit to such a statement. But she knew it was true. She couldn't turn her face away from the truth.

Voldemort's ultimate destruction lay with her. Regardless of how deeply she knew she was tied to the Dark Lord, she knew that one day, he'd come for her. And she'd have to be ready. To be prepared. Far more prepared than she currently was, with all those around her telling her not to worry, and everything would be alright.

She was getting closer and closer to the point that she would finally have to do something. She couldn't just sit back and let others fight her war, even if Dumbledore was adamant on letting such a thing happen.

"Yes you are" his words cut deeper into the girl than he expected.

She visibly flinched back at his candid tone.

Even as she began to shrink in on herself, Harry cut her out of it with a gentle nudge of his magic.

"But that changes the second you wish it to" he was still smiling at her, radiating comfort. He failed to notice the look of pure venom that Daphne shot Rose.

"I've always wished it. I've always wanted to help. This won't happen if no one tells me anything! If no one teaches me! I can't just-"

"Then let me teach you" Harry tilted his head, "after all, that's what you wanted? Correct?"

Rose narrowed her eyes at him, "did you-?"

"Read your mind? No. It was simple to see what you came here for. Lessons, correct?"

Rose looked down again, focusing on her shoes.

"I'm weak. But you're not. You've proven it time and time again. You're also probably the only person who'd be willing to teach me anything. Anything useful at least" she huffed at the end, glancing behind her briefly.

'Dumbledore must keep her on a tight chain' Harry idly considered as the girl stewed in the silence before his answer.

"I'll contact you later Rose, we can organise a time and date for lessons"

The girl simply smiled, thanked him and turned to leave.

This time however, Harry did not fail to see Daphne give the Potter girl a powerful glare. This was because he had noticed Rose turn and give the other girl one. Harry turned to Draco, confusion in his glance.

The Malfoy heir responded as honestly as he could.

Draco snorted into his hand.

"Daphne?"

The girl pulled her attention to Ares. Before he could speak, before a question was almost upon his lips, she practically snarled at him.

"You seem fine Flamel, try not to die" she was gone after that.

Draco laughed long and hard. Well, until a conjured stone bounced off his forehead.

"Ow"

"A part of me believes you deserved that"

Draco rubbed his head but pulled up a chair by the bedside. Since Harry's magic was still somewhat disturbed and fluctuating, Draco was responsible for the privacy spells.

A few minutes later the Malfoy left, leaving Harry alone in his bed.

Dumbledore would want to speak to him soon.

* * *

As soon as Neville's feet touched the ground, he leapt away. A brilliant bolt of lightning scorched the earth he had just stood at.

He felt the sudden heat that exploded from the earth, his mind knowing that it would have melted right through his armor.

"Oh my, someone's prepared"

That voice…

"Voldemort" Neville hissed, his sword appearing in hand, helmet suddenly covering his features.

A shadow slithered around the tombstones of the graveyard. Neville had apparated into the location looking for clues, hopefully to track down more information on the Man in Black and his operations.

But he'd managed to stumble across the Dark Bastard himself.

Perfect.

"You're far more prepared than the last two" the voice echoed from everywhere, and Neville brought his blade up, keeping his feet on a pivot as his ambusher toyed with him.

The monsters comment drew his attention towards the two corpses on the ground. One a few feet away from him, the other… well what he assumed had been another corpse, was splattered all over a large mausoleum.

"Let's dance Snake-face!" Neville roared, pulling deep pools of magic from his core, running them along the edge of his blade.

In a quick pirouette, everything was on fire, revealing the only place that wasn't burning, but should have been.

Neville's wand shot up, a series of counter curses and anti-shielding hexes following a moment after. They smashed into the protective dome, shattering it.

The Longbottom time traveller wasn't far behind, his large form smashing through tombstones as he charged towards the disoriented figure.

Once he got within a foot, the very flame that he had slathered the area with turned on him, great monsters and creatures forming from the embers and open fire.

His wand shifted in form, a shield now held in his right arm. It looked to be made of steel and embroidered with the Longbottom family crest, but it was a magical transformation, one that absorbed all the magical fire that approached its user.

With the threat put behind him in a mere second, Neville continued his charge towards the apathetic Dark Lord. His magic had more than certainly rendered Voldemort confused for a second, but he'd only have the drop on him in the next few moments.

His sword cleaved down on the black cloaked figure.

Blood spurted from open sides of the torso, blood that was as black as night. Oddly enough, Neville felt like he had expected it to be like that.

That when he finally killed Voldemort, just like in his dreams he'd…

He'd…

Something was wrong.

"I think that's enough of that"

The world shifted. Reverting back to the very moment Neville had stepped foot in the space.

The damage of the fire had vanished. The destroyed gravestones reformed. Reality fixed itself.

A wand found its way to the back of Neville's unarmoured head. He'd never actually put his helmet on. He'd never actually drawn his sword. He hadn't done anything, except get caught in illusionary magic.

Taking a careful moment to stretch out his senses, he caught the subtle feel of the magical wards.

His opponent had sensed Neville's searching magic, "I know that it takes all the fun out of it, but I'm fairly busy today. People to see, places to be, you know"

"Be done with it then, you monster"

"Monster? You hardly know-"

"Kill me and be done with it" Neville turned on the man, "Voldemort"

The face was obscured by darkness, but Neville had still heard the voice, he still knew who it was.

The wand had found its way between his eyes, nested carefully just above the bridge of his nose.

The silence extended longer than Neville expected.

Was this sick bastard trying to draw out Nevilles final moments, just to torment him? Was he debating using the torture curse? He had no clue what was-

"As I live and breathe… Neville Longbottom" the wand did not move, even as the Dark Lord exclaimed to one of the few people that truly knew what and who he was.

"What a fantastic opportunity you've given me heir Longbottom" Voldemort simpered, intentionally dragging the word 'heir' out.

"But as it stands… you will be far more valuable to me alive, then dead… after all" Nevile felt a layer of magic overcome him, forcibly knocking him unconscious.

The silky tones whispered into his ears as his eyes began to flutter closed.

"Remember dear Neville, the enemy of my enemy is my friend"

When Neville would awake, he would begin to lather himself in defensive magic, spell after spell trying to locate some kind of horrid addition the Dark Lord had left with him.

But as the night slowly began to turn too day, Neville couldn't find anything.

And while he suspected that there was some kind of magic that had been utilised on him, one that would bend his opinions and mind, it would be too late before he learnt the truth.

That the only thing Voldemort had left him with was his words.

* * *

"A moment of your time, a few simple questions" Albus was the first to speak. Both of them stood by a window in the Hospital Ward, a surprisingly bright day having cast its rays down upon all of the school.

"I feel the word simple, and the great Albus Dumbledore are not synonymous" Ares bluntly retorted, not bothering to turn and face the headmaster. Both of them were content with the view that Hogwarts provided.

After Draco had left, Albus hadn't wasted any time to sweep into the room, kindly asking if Ares had wished to exit the bed he had been stuck in.

Poppy had granted that request, but they had been only allowed to remain within the infirmary. She still wasn't sure if Flamel's magic was stable, and letting him out of her sight with that current lack of information was not something she could stand by.

"Are you familiar with the concept of Lords?" Dumbledore was idly spinning a few translucent lights between his fingers, like he was juggling an ethereal coin of colors.

Ares closed up on the headmaster. Albus could see the reaction out of the corner of his eye. Flamel had stiffened, but ultimately did not answer.

He allowed the boy his silence, not bothering to prompt anymore response or queries.

"Vaguely" was the only word he allowed.

Albus smiled kindly at the window, knowing that while neither of them directed their attention at the other, both were observant and weary.

"There are many theories that support, explain and understand the individuals our society deems as Lords" Dumbledore felt calm while explaining the topic, but he knew the boy would catch on to what he was suggesting.

"The most popular, is that those born with exceptionally sized magical cores have a predisposition towards leading. Merlin was such a wizard, many Dark Lords were known to be surprisingly powerful at such a young age, and I am a shining example of such a theory"

"But what of an individual like Voldemort?"

"Tom Riddle was exactly why I do not believe in that Theory of Lords"

As the name was dropped, Flamel turned his gaze onto Dumbledore, eyes narrowed. Dumbledore knew what was going through the boys' mind. That Snape, or some other professor, or at least someone with access to his things, knew he had figured it out.

Someone had told Dumbledore that Ares Flamel was investigating Tom Riddle. Since Albus already knew that the Dark Lord Voldemort and the Riddle head boy of so many years past were the same, it was clear as to why Flamel had been researching the man.

He had drawn the connection. When one had disappeared, the other had been born.

Albus knew of Ares's hatred of the Dark Lord. He knew of the anger that the boy felt for the man. So he was willing to let the boy keep this information to himself. Not only would it show that he could hold a trustable connection with Dumbledore, but that Albus had no plans of keeping the information quiet if Ares so wished.

It could be out in the papers the very next day.

Well the old man also wanted to clearly demonstrate to Flamel that he was still capable of keeping up with the youngsters.

Flamel seemed to accept that Albus had been spying on him, probably already correctly assuming that Snape was the informant. His gaze shifted back to the view.

"So Tom wasn't powerful?"

"No no no" Dumbledore corrected, "the boy was strong, but nothing like Grindelwald or myself. No, what separates him from the others, is exactly what I believe separates a Lord, a true Lord, from those that come close"

"And that is?"

"Intent"

"Intent?"

"Intent" Dumbledore nodded, "it is what governs all of magic. A law that cannot be transgressed, one that truly puts the wonder of magic into existence"

Dumbledore flipped the magic away from his hand, dismissing it casually.

"A lord is someone who knew what they needed to be the moment they were born into this world. Where they have no doubts, no questions, and no hesitations towards whatever goal they believe to be crucial. Magic understands this, and it believes them as well, bending simply to their whim. Because a Lord does not need permission from another to do what they believe in. For them, this is their very purpose of existence"

Flamel seemed confused.

"Then wouldn't someone who was content and happy to bake cakes all day, wouldn't they be a Lord in their own right?" Ares shrugged, "if I was content being a baker, then that would mean-"

"They have already reached their station, achieved their purpose. Magic has helped them along the way, but through no serious effort of itself. It does not take much to become a baker, as you put it. Not in comparison to ruling the entirety of Europe.. A feat such as that is an intent layered far deeper than to be lost in obscurity"

"Which is why we only hear about powerful Lords" Ares realised, eyes widening slightly.

"For their goals are grand" Dumbledore nodded sagely, his eyes closing for a moment.

"And you think I've become one, haven't you"

The old man smiled down at Flamel, turning to face him directly. The taller boy also turned, each of them matching their gaze. Albus refused to display any sense of hostility. Flamel had layered his gaze with his usual layer of ice and frigidness.

"I think, that you already know the answer to that question Mister Flamel" Albus ducked his head slightly, "if you wish to discuss anything further, my door is always open"

"Thank you Headmaster" it was just common courtesy. Flamel's mouth had responded on instinct, his mind still wrapped around the implications of what Dumbledore had suggested.

Albus left the boy staring out the window, gently telling Poppy to give the boy some space.

He was considering what his very existence entailed, why he was here.

The day waned, night was going to be upon the castle in a handful of hours. With Poppy focused on her other tasks, Ares suddenly vanished in a static flicker.

He had something to investigate.

* * *

James looked up at the unfamiliar noise. It had almost sounded like… apparition. Something that didn't bode well.

He'd walked off into the woods for a quick leak and a chance to clear his head of Hargreaves bullshit.

The wanker had been sending him a series of details regarding the traveler, some that just seemed outlandish for a regular wizard.

James hadn't had this many dealings with the head Unspeakable in a long time, and even those were supposed to be bi-weekly.

He'd finally managed to get his way out of the office due to the whole, 'dragon briefly breaks out at Triwizard Tournament' situation.

Enough complaints had been put in by Hogwarts families after the little debacle with the dragon, that an Auror investigation was warranted.

James knew that he had shamelessly pulled enough strings in the office to get himself and Sirius tagged onto Hogwarts ground, but the photo of his daughter in the paper. The gnawing pit it had created in his stomach.

And how Flamel had saved her. Enough of the eyewitness accounts alone practically forced James to believe the article that Rita Skeeter had cobbled together.

An article that further insinuated a more personal connection between his daughter and Ares Flamel.

The dark haired Slytherin boy… who was currently walking towards the very same Dragon Enclosure that James was responsible for investigating.

Was he wearing…?

James had been under Poppy's sweet care enough times to know that Ares had come straight from the infirmary.

If the information around Flamel doing something sketchy to the Egyptian King he'd faced was true, then perhaps he was here to erase evidence.

And there was something sketchy going on.

James had been briefed on the reports of the Dragon's odd behaviour, how it seemed hyper-aggressive at times, before simply sleeping.

Apparently this was not normal, not for this specific dragon, and for the species as well.

So seeing Flamel making a beeline for the temporary enclosures was evidence enough for James.

The Auror followed from a distance, his wand out and his attention focused on Flamel.

He seemed disheveled and tired, but his step was purposeful. He knew why he was here, and James further held back the need to question him. Why not just let the guilty party act, proving that they were guilty, rather than stepping in.

James shook himself from his stupor as Flamel expertly disillusioned himself. It wasn't a full charm or spell, but it had the effect of making him partially invisible.

And James could see why he went with it. In fact, he begrudgingly respected the kid for being so forward thinking.

The enclosures that held the dragon's before the date of their international transport sometime next week were open-faced, revealing each species clearly to any onlookers.

Not many of the Handlers were around, only a handful were required to keep watch on the dragons. The rest of their troop were hidden away in a tent not far off from the row of cages.

So Flamel wanted to observe something. It was clear that he wanted to see something about the dragons. If he had cast any large scale spells, or used any heavy magic to keep himself concealed, it would alert any of the Dragon Handlers to the boy.

They were people that dealt with incredibly powerful creatures on a daily basis, so naturally they would keep wards that would warn them of powerful spells used in the proximity of their beasts.

As Flamel approached the cages, one of the beasts reacted.

It was the Egyptian King. The one Flamel had subdued somehow.

James watched in anticipation from the tree line, waiting for the boy to give away whatever ability or technique he had utilised to detain the beast.

A few people started shouting as the King rocked its cage, bashing against the bars that were in front of it.

Men and women burst from the tent, wands out and pointed towards the commotion. Their eyes were only on the dragon, so none of them noticed Flamel's partially hidden, and very still figure, 10 meters from the cage.

But James did notice him. He also noticed how the beast was staring at Flamel.

Even as it pushed up against the cage, it's eyes were on Flamel only. James could honestly admit that he would have been dead terrified in Flamel's position.

And while James was being honest about things, he also admitted that the closest noise that the dragon was making would be a….

Keening noise.

It warbled.

It was sad.

And it had eyes for Flamel only.

Ares took a step back, something that James could barely see through the boy's illusionary magic, but the Dragon whined in annoyance.

Almost instantly, when Flamel stepped forward, the King's tongue dropped from its mouth, and its tail swished through the air. It was wagging it like…

Like a dog.

By Merlin's balls.

James knew he was gapping, and even as the Dragon was sedated from it's high energy condition and Flamel made his escape.

He couldn't help but be impressed.

Ares Flamel had tamed a dragon somehow. Something unheard of. He was stuck between being impressed, and being awed.

Instead the Potter family head made a reasonable decision.

He settled for still being mad at the boy since he was flirting with his daughter.

* * *

The house was old. But it was his Lord's home. Rodolphus knew this. Far before the Dark Lord had reached the height of his power, Regulus Black had come to him with the truth. That they were led by a filthy half-blood. That their beliefs, were helmed by the unclean, one that could not even be deposed due to the defenses that had been placed against death.

Horcruxes.

Ones that were hidden around the world, each in a private location, one related to the mortal identity of the Dark Lord, Voldemort.

So he had come here. The Gaunt family home.

A home dead and forgotten to those of the wizarding world.

But Regulus had found it. He had discovered the link of Tom Marvolo Riddle, and Merope Gaunt.

The last of Salazar Slytherin's line. A noble blood that had been diluted by filthy muggle blood.

He was here to destroy the anchor.

The home used to have wards. Wards designed to keep wizards out. The muggle ones were still strong and in place, forever cementing the protection of the home from non magicals. Feeling the ward lines as he passed over them, the Lestrange brother noticed the discrepancy between the two of them. One was still being fed power, but it was no longer functional.

Wait.

It was the magical one that had been shattered.

Someone had apparated into the home.

There was someone here.

Rodolphus Lestrange raised the wand he had stolen. With the soft step most Lestranges had inherited, he swept up to the large and imposing black doors.

While the Gaunts were a poor family, one that had fallen into disrepute and bad fortune, being a sacred family granted them certain privileges.

Such as the right to keep their ancestral home.

No matter how much one magical family detested another, those of the old blood would never force another, even an enemy, from their homes.

It was here that all those years ago Regulus had promised the Gaunt Ring would lay.

If the intruder hadn't already stolen it.

Rodolphus quietly unlocked the door, his gaze focusing on the interior of the gaunt foyer. There were a few destroyed statues, empty portraits, and holes in the wall. Charred supports, and blackened tapestries.

A fire had ripped through here.

A long time ago.

Three spells rocketed toward him from the second floor landing. Rodolphus swiftly moved out of the way, replying with a slicing hex, a killing curse and a large blasting spell.

His assailant, the intruder, was no slouch.

A strange multicolored light exploded into the space, and the Lestrange brother flinched away from it. Something itched in his senses, a warning.

He quickly apparated into the drawing room.

Not a second too late either.

A large explosion rocked the foyer, sending dust and wind hurtling into the ruined drawing room.

Rodolphus flung the destroyed and archaic furniture at the doorway, expecting his attacker to enter through it.

The blasting curse that followed the wooden objects turned them into a hail of splinters.

Nothing moved. The air was still.

He lurched back as something shot down from the ceiling. The spike that had nearly caved in his skull remained. Even though the tip of it was embedded into the floor, Rodolphus could see the red stain of where it had nicked his skin.

And suddenly the ceiling came alive.

This would be a hard-pressed fight.

* * *

Harry had him trapped in the drawing room, forcing the ground to manipulate itself into spikes. Whoever this was, he was fast on his feet and a very quick thinker.

His detection spell caught movement, and Harry launched more spikes down at him.

This would be dealt with in a few….

The very same spikes that he had forced through the floor were hurtled back up towards him, slicing through the air and nearly rending him in half. Instead they passed through him as if he was made of air, leaving nothing but whisp like holes in his body.

Harry clutched the small disk in his hand, vanishing from the room and reappearing in the master bedroom of the gaunt house. He was still on the second floor, and this attacker was still located in the drawing room.

But not for long.

The Sacclarius appeared in his hand, open and ready.

Harry wasn't going to take any precautions with a wizard that was prepared and ready. But he also wasn't going to kill whoever this was.

He wanted to know how they knew to come here. Who else was out there that was aware of the original locations for the Horcruxes.

So with this in mind, he allowed a small vial to appear in mid-air. Catching it, Harry tilted his head back and put two drops into each of his nostrils.

Instantly, red scratches, lines and dashes appeared all over the structure, telling him where people had stepped and moved in the past.

The more obvious lines, the ones that had not faded… these were the lines of sent that would take him to the individual. Focusing on this particular thread, Harry drew an ornate dagger from him person.

He needed only to scratch his opponent.

The poison that coated the blade would do the rest.

* * *

Rodolphus stilled as the flare of magic washed over the room above him. Something in his gut told him that the intruder had survived his counter attack.

The fool hadn't expected him to be so good in transfiguration.

But not silence reigned over the house again, the only noise being the harsh breathing of Rodolphus. He knew for certain that he hadn't killed the other.

So to any battle competent wizard, the other was planning something, or was at least up to something.

Silence was never a good noise between two wizards fighting.

Out of the corner of his eye, shadows shifted, darting towards him.

The ex-Death Eater whipped his wand towards the approaching individual, three different curses on his lips.

Except the boy, that he could clearly see was a boy, was much faster than him.

Much faster. If the tip of the blade that had sunk into his shoulder was anything to go by. A foreign hand firmly gripped his wand hand, forcing the spells he had cast to pass harmlessly over the boy's shoulder.

The next instant he was forced to look into the deep green eyes of a boy he couldn't recognise.

A man like him almost felt insulted that he had been bested by someone so young, but there was something about the eyes that caught him off guard. Something that he wondered about even as he began to slip into unconsciousness.

Rodolphus Lestrange didn't know it, but both him and the Gaunt family ring, Voldemort's Horcrux, were transported into the chamber of secrets.

And there they would be held, until Ares Flamel wished to speak with them.

* * *

Days Later

* * *

He'd already figured out the egg before. In the previous timeline. The old world.

And while it was nice to go to the prefects bathroom again, his attention was on the egg each champion received for completing the first task.

Because the egg was different. While it was a golden egg, there was no clasp on the top. No reaction to water. It could be opened, but the sounds that came from the egg were a deep and ancient chant.

One that Harry barely recognised.

It wasn't mermish. The inscriptions and engraving on the side was another language, one far older than the tones spoken by those of the depths.

So after taking a very unnecessary bath in Hogwarts largest bubble bath, Harry made his way to the library. There, he'd probably find what he was looking for.

But the sinking feeling within his chest reminded him that he was most likely not dealing with the challenge in the black lake.

This would be something different.

Something new.

* * *

Nicholas Flamel was wandering the woods of his property, a small notebook tucked into his pocket, ready to be retrieved at a moments notice.

After all, one does need to keep a lengthy reminder on the health of the trees. Which ones needed caring, which were beyond saving, and so forth.

"He hasn't called a council meeting in weeks"

Nicholas nodded idly as the figure came around a particularly thick tree. He was wearing the same white robes he always did, but the grey cowl had been pulled down, revealing his strong features and hard blue eyes.

"He's secluded himself, seems to only speak with the Warlock" the man continued, moving alongside Flamel, who was writing down some nonsense about using different dirt.

"Something must have changed?" Flamel asked, "he wouldn't act like this normally"

"One of our old meeting sites was compromised. He believes there's a spy" the taller man said, keeping in stride with the old Alchemist, "I'm not sure if he suspects one of the council members, or any of our underlings, but someone will be punished. He liked that location"

Flamel quirked up an eyebrow, "really? A graveyard is a bit of a morbid taste"

"His mother and father were buried there"

"Ah"

They returned to silence, walking together. It was the German who broke the silence after they came to stop at a very strange blue tree.

"Are you sure you trust the traveler?" the taller man finally asked, the question obviously working through him on multiple levels.

Flamel regarded the tree for a moment.

The German wanted to make contact with the traveler, to learn if there was any possible way to defeat the man in black.

Nicholas sometimes regretted telling the man this, but he couldn't confide with Pernelle. Someone to discuss the motives of another from a different world.

Where things had become so misshapen and horrid, trying to justify those outcomes was becoming harder and harder every day.

"Raphael, I hardly trust you, let alone a time travelling war veteran, but I've been keeping my eyes open on what he's been up to. So far, so good"

The German, now identified as Raphael huffed, "I still don't know why you hide his identity. Both of us could kill him for certain"

"Because he is too young" Nicholas bit back before thinking.

Both of them looked at the other, the hard glaze of Nicholas's eyes communicating a wordless threat to the other, Raphael.

"I will share no more" Nicholas tried to power ahead, but Raphael's hand clasped his shoulder, forcing him to remain.

"The traveling process isn't supposed to do that"

Nicholas remained silent.

"I've already figured out that he's lived through the war, which by your own admission was a lengthy experience. A teenager, let alone a child, wouldn't have the capability of surviving such a war Nicholas. So because of his transfer back, some external circumstance, he's become younger"

Nicholas said nothing.

"Which is strange, because the Warden had captured all the other travelers, bar one. Each of them had not been affected in such a way. So why him? Why did the portal revert his age"

"The time Traveler is Ares Flamel" Nicholas finally said, "but you already figured it out, haven't you Raphael"

The man didn't nod, his hard stare still wishing to get his question across to the Alchemist. Nicholas sighed.

"I have considered this. And while it does bring forth a series of questions I am not comfortable with, I still trust the boy. I would not have formally adopted him if I did not"

And the silence had returned.

Both studied the path that they walked on, or in the Alchemist's case, the trees that lined it.

Raphael opened his mouth to speak, but uncharacteristically, Flamel cut across him.

"You're Grandfather thought that war was the answer" Nicholas began, noticing the twitch in his eye, "he married in secret, had your father, and still continued his war, even though his heart belonged to the same man that opposed him"

Raphael said nothing.

"The man in black believes in his war. He has lived through horrible acts of violence, he has lived and breathed the bitterness and hatred of humanity. A fresh slate is the only solution"

Flamel stopped walking, and turned his whole body to face Raphael.

"And I have seen the results of both now. This is why I place my trust in the one person who wishes to do nothing more than prevent all of it"

The taller man nodded slowly, understanding where the Alchemist was coming from.

A bright flash emanated from his wrist, drawing both of their attention to the mark that was located there.

"I must go now" he nodded gruffly.

Flamel said nothing.

Raphael Grindelwald vanished.

Nicholas continued his little plant inspection in a peaceful silence.

* * *

Harry found himself staring down his reflection in a mirror. He had tried to find any way around attending this damn event once again, but unfortunately, the rules were clear.

The Yule Ball was happening. And he would be one of the main dancing pairs, with or without his consent.

With regard to his partner though…

Well he knew who'd be waiting for him outside his door. They hadn't had the need to communicate with one another, just more of a mutual understanding.

He would accompany a very beautiful Daphne Greengrass to the Ball, and if he was anything less than charming, he'd find himself on the business end of Tracey Davis's wand.

Most of Slytherin had come to realise their little 'relationship', and thankfully the gossip hadn't spread to the other houses.

Daphne had tried to get her claws as deep as possible into him, and Harry had welcomed it, finding the girl's efforts to be not only amusing, but heartwarming.

In her cold, and most certainly calculated, way.

A presence approached the door to his room, and Harry swiped away the silencing charm.

He knew who it was.

Seems as though she had gotten ready by now. Checking his watch, a recent addition to his wardrobe, he noted only thirty minutes before the opening dance.

"Fuck" he hissed.

The Greengrass heir had heard him, if the musical note of laughter was anything to go by. Harry sauntered up to the door, pulling his sleeves idly as Daphne spoke through the wood at him.

"Not to bother you my lord, but we are-"

Harry opened the door, allowing her to gaze upon his form at his full height. He very clearly saw the red hue that lit her up from the collarbone to her face.

A full flush.

Harry swiped away any kind of lame poker joke in exchange for giving her a dashing smile, full of expectation.

"Yes?"

* * *

Oh that bastard. Daphne knew she resembled some kind of molten metal right now, but it was deserved. His hair was combed back, controlled yet a few strands errantly dashed across his features. His angular face was clean shaven, giving him the same strong princely look he had at Draco's party.

And the robes. Oh my did his form stand out well in those robes. Black, with lines of green so scarcely balanced on the edges of wisps of his top. He'd forgone the same green plan for his pants, but in the end, he still looked so subtly, yet obviously, Slytherin.

And he was hers for the night.

"Yes?" his voice finally drew her from her thoughts, dragging her eyes up to his face once more, and the smile that crested his features.

He was enjoying every second of this.

"We are expected" Daphne managed to huff, drawing him from the room and towards the exit of the common room.

Daphne was getting the heat under control as she stepped into the sparsely populated common room.

But then he opened his damn mouth again.

"Lead the way..." he chuckled, before his voice dropped quieter than she'd ever heard it before.

"My lady"

Daphne powered past everyone, refusing to acknowledge the absolute burn she was probably wearing obviously on her skin.

* * *

Rose knew McGonagall was losing her patience. But since Flamel wasn't one of her lions, and Snape couldn't be bothered to get his wayward student, it appeared that Flamel would be late for the opening dance.

Dean Thomas stood beside her, a date that had barely been selected, but everyone knew that Dean had a weakness for pretty girls.

But Rose was still searching for the Slytherin champion, so she'd have to scold Ron later for putting any thoughts into Dean's head. The boy seemed really happy with himself that Rose had come to him, and the girl just didn't have it in her to snub the boy.

Fleur Delacour had stolen the hearts and minds of almost every wizard in attendance. Her beauty was radiant and practically shone through the pale blue dress that she wore.

The men stood firm and strong. Cedric's white, and deep yellow coated clothing reflected the Diggory Family crest, something that stood unique among all the others.

Krum wore black and red, looking powerful yet kind with Hermione on his arm.

How that had happened Rose had no idea.

But all the other contestants had shown up looking glamorous and strong, as they had been told to. And as the clock ticked further and further, they seemed to also be the punctual ones.

McGonagall was going to throttle-

The door that every champion and their partner stepped through flew open, but it did not crash or make a noise.

Everyone was drawn to the movement.

"Sorry everyone, I got lost on the road of life"

Rose felt something stir in her belly, even as Flamel stepped into the room with the most gorgeous witch she'd ever seen on his arm. His smile was causing things to flip in directions she wasn't comfortable with. He was gorgeous. She'd realised this before, from the very moment they had met and he'd handed Hermione a book, but now it was being shoved in her face.

Daphne Greengrass was a very lucky witch.

Cameras were taking photos as fast as they could, and Rita Skeeter was manically writing as fast as she could.

Flamel was always good news.

His comment got laughs out of the some of the Slytherin's, but others looked at him in confusion as he stepped up with the other champions, ready to dance.

He wasn't embarrassed about being late, and even if McGonagall wanted to throttle the boy, she couldn't let the Yule Ball wait any longer.

And like that, the music struck up and they began to dance.

* * *

Fleur Delacour kept her eye on Flamel, even as her date for the night, Rodger Davis, talked with her.

The poor boy had no clue that she had her eye on another. As soon as Flamel had stepped into the space, Fleur knew how she wanted this night to end. He was no boy. So she would not treat him like one.

She'd seen what he was capable of.

She'd seen the magic.

And short of a small red book, he most certainly fit the outline for her hero. For the one who had saved her from the Death Eater attack.

If it wasn't him… Fleur had no clue.

But she wanted to find out.

And she would.

Tonight was her night.

From her clear line of sight on him, she saw as Cedric Diggory graciously took a dance with Daphne Greengrass, allowing the Potter girl to step in with Flamel.

The timid girl didn't know what to do with a man like that.

So Fleur waited.

* * *

"Miss Potter" Ares smiled at her, sweeping them into the main bundle of dancers. He was a gallant boy, smart on his feet, and a good dancer.

Rose felt like she was fumbling in the dark with anyone else of that night, but with Flamel, her body seemed to respond on its own, moving perfectly in step with him.

"Mister Flamel" she grinned back at him, ignoring the extra attention that Skeeter was giving them from afar.

"Is your plan to create yet another headline?" he cocked his head, "we seem to be awfully good at that"

She giggled, something that in normal circumstances would have mortified her. Ron would have demanded what had been done with the real her, but Rose felt it natural for now.

He really was charming.

"We shouldn't rush it, though" she thoughtfully considered as he brought her into a brief twirl, "wouldn't want to run out of options too early, no matter how good we are together"

His face dipped for a few moments. Rose felt herself lock up slightly, even as they kept dancing.

Had that been to forward?

It was obvious that Daphne Greengrass, the vile snake, had gotten something out of him. Rose didn't know if they were dating or not, as Slytherin gossip was the rarest of all Hogwarts gossip.

Before she could get a response, an aggravatingly familiar french tone wandered into the space between them.

"May I have this dance?" Fleur Delacour completely declined to notice Rose, her attention solely focused on Flamel.

The green eyes of Ares fixed themselves on the Girl Who Lived, a plea behind them, some kind of indecipherable emotion.

In that instance Rose knew that he felt something. That there was something there, and it was for her.

He might not be able to say it currently, and he might not ever admit it, but she knew.

Ares Flamel did like her.

"He's all yours" Rose sarcastically snarked to the French girl, who seemed mildly surprised at the vitriol in her tone.

But she didn't spend any more time considering the two of them. The party was winding down, couples were getting drunk and wandering off. Rose was going to find a drink or two, bump into Ron, and they'd do something stupid.

Probably involving burning something.

Hopefully something French.

* * *

"Follow me"

And Flamel did. He wordlessly stepped after Fleur into the garden that had been erected for the tournament.

Other couples had wandered into the tall hedges, some of them in various states of undress and lacking certain pieces of clothing.

For some, Fleur could smell the alcohol wafting right off of them.

They found themselves in a stone gazebo, one with magically heated walls, and a beautiful view of an arrangement of flowers.

Fleur had to be honest and admit that the Hogwarts botanical selections were… superior to Beauxbatons. They didn't have the raw beauty that was present here.

"You've got me all alone" Flamel came up beside her, a smile you could call cocky dominating his face, "what's the next step in your nefarious plan?"

Fleur smirked at him, using her wand to summon the bottle of Fire Whisky from the seal on her back.

"To get the both of us horribly drunk" she stated simply, a casually slant in her form as she rested on the balustrade of the gazebo.

She was pleased to note that Flamel's eyes tracked the curve of her back, ending on her rear before he practically wrenched them to her face.

"Something tells me this is a bad idea" he replied honestly, conjuring two glasses for both of them.

"How so?" Fleur replied innocently, a casual smile on her charming features.

Flamel sighed and poured them two shots.

* * *

Her hands raked down his naked back. Through the haze of it all, she gasped as his lips found the small of her neck. She clutched to him further, a burn in her core as he pulled away. They lay together on her bed, having found need for further privacy.

In all honesty, she hadn't expected him to get so drunk. And for a further note, she hadn't expected his entire attitude to change when she first kissed him.

He had responded. Eagerly. Far too eagerly for a drunk man. A part of her wondered if this had been his plan all along, but as his clothed length brushed up against her leg, she had to take some credit for herself.

She panted roughly as he hovered above her, his powerful arms keeping her closed in.

Trapped, beneath him. This beast.

"To many..." Fleur mumbled, her hands slowly moving to his sides.

His face mimicked his confusion.

Her hands traced down from his ribcage, swiftly dancing across his abs to his waist line.

"Clothes" she smiled wickedly, even as he vanished everything from their bodies. She was pleased to note all of it appear on the floor beside her bed.

But her attention was drawn elsewhere as he lowered himself down the length of her form.

"Ohhhhh" she groaned softly as he demonstrated some of his… talents.

This would be a long night for both of them.

* * *

 **Oh dear. Someone decided to let themselves go and satisfy their baser instincts... or did they? Anywho, any comments suggestions and ideas are welcome. Once again I haven't decided the pairing yet, so this story can go in many directions from here on out. Those of you that review constantly, and always provide me with support, my thanks goes to you primarily. Any of you that have responded to my challenge two chapters ago, much appreciated, but I am sad to inform you that the position is still open.**

 **Aside from all things, I've been good. You can expect the next chapter in a bit of time since I've got some shit on my plate, but since the weather has dropped to a below freezing, ill be indoors mostly anyways.**

 **Thanks and have a good day.**

 **-Freedom.**


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